The Fates of Snakes and Lions
by ArcticFoxScribe
Summary: Set after the events of OoTP, Harry finds himself in the care of the last man he'd expect, Severus Snape. With little choice in the matter, both Harry and Snape must work past their personal demons and their past if they are to come together to face the oncoming storm that will threaten to not only engulf them, but the Wizarding World itself. (Snape Mentors Harry Fic)
1. A Snake Visits the Lions Den

Number 4 Privet Drive. In an unassuming neighborhood, where all the houses looked the same, it was home to a rather famous individual. To look at it, one wouldn't be off in mistaking it as just your average home. After all, nothing seemed to speak out loud that this was home to someone who had the fate of two worlds resting upon his shoulders. However, it was true. Within those walls was one of the most powerful people in the world, both Wizarding and Muggle, and he was currently laying on the floor, blood leaking from his mouth

Vernon was drunk. Drunker than normal. Ever since Harry came back after a rather eventful Fifth Year of Hogwarts, and still reeling from the death of Sirius, he had been at the hands of a constantly drunk Vernon. He had noticed it in the car, when his uncle came by to pick him up from Kings Cross. Normally it had been Petunia that would come and get him at the end of every term at Hogwarts, but as Harry soon found out, his Aunt, and his cousin as well, were no longer in the picture.

Apparently while Harry was busy trying to fight against evil wizards, his Aunt was in a battle of her own. Over the last year she had grown a bit soft-hearted towards her nephew. It had started when she had overheard him talking in his sleep. No, talking wasn't the right word, yelling. Painful cries for someone named Cedric. At first Petunia thought that Harry was crying over losing a boyfriend. Yet, the longer she listened to his nightmares, the more apparent his real trauma became. Ever so often she could hear him calling out for it to be him instead. To kill him and leave Cedric alone. It was in those moments that Petunia understood what life for Harry must be like. If not understood it, at least became a bit more sympathetic. She knew that the way she treated her sister's son was vile. Yet, she never did it out of pure enjoyment, just to save face around her husband. Vernon was oft a scary man, one filled with rage and hate at anything odd or different. Deep down, she knew that the only reason she did what she did to Harry, was fear that Vernon would turn his violent ways on her if she didn't. Or worse, their son. Unlike Vernon, it seemed, Petunia did have some form of a heart, which was why, as Harry left for his fifth year, She sought out help.

Petunia didn't know how to reach Harry's kind. She knew that they had buildings that were often hidden in plain sight, or places that only those with magical blood could get into. What she did know, however, was her neighbors. For years she had watched them, got to know them, and out of all of them, Miss. Fig stuck out like a sore thumb. The overly clean woman was more than just a long neck and shrill voice, she was clever and smart when need be, so it didn't take long to figure out that the old lady was keeping an eye out for her nephew.

The conversation they had didn't start off nice at all. Once Petunia called her out on being a part of the Wizarding World, the old lady unleashed what seemed to be years of anger, and justifiable at that. She listed off events that she had been forced to watch and unable to intervene in. Only able to report to someone who didn't seem to see the problem or understand the severity of what was being done to the savior of the wizarding world. When she was done, Miss. Fig was panting, and Petunia was in tears, feeling disgusted at being faced with the sins she had allowed to happen within her own walls. Swallowing down the emotions as best as she could, Petunia relayed to the Squib her worries for her nephew, and how, despite everything that she did, she was desperate for him to get some help. Miss. Fig listened, watching as Petunia spoke with emotions she thought the woman was impossible of having. While she didn't forgive her for what Petunia did to Harry, she could tell that, for the first time, she was doing something right by the boy. The Squib promised to get Harry the help he needed while he was away for his Fifth Year.

For all intents and purposes, that should have been the end of any contact the two had. Yet Petunia found herself going over to visit the Squib every week. It was nice to have someone to talk to that wasn't wrapped up in gossip like everyone in the neighborhood. Petunia found it easy to talk about her life and how she felt. Eventually conversations went from everyday life, to how Petunia felt. More importantly, how she felt about Vernon.

It was clear, from Figs point of view, that Petunia and her whale of a son were trapped in a house with someone who was rather unsavory. Even though she never said it, Fig could read between Petunia's word about the fact that the only reason she even stayed with the man was for their son. It had been months into their weekly get togethers, when Fig managed to convince Petunia that leaving her husband with their son was in the best interest. The old Squib could see the signs of abuse that were apparent on the skin of the young woman, as Vernon often used her as a punching bag when Harry was away. Miss. Fig managed to help with getting them both out of that house, using a considerable bit of Muggle money she had stashed away, to help get them a small flat.

It was these sequence of events that led to Harry laying on the floor bleeding, and a heavily drunk Vernon standing over his bruised body. He blamed him for Petunia leaving. Then again, Vernon always blamed everything on the boy, though, for once, he wasn't far off. Tossing the glass bottle of whiskey to the side, the bottle shattering against the cage of a silent and furious Hedwig, the beast of a man pulled Harry to his feet, the boy hanging limply from his grasp.

"It's all your fault, you freak" he spat, covering the green-eyed boy in a layer of alcohol laced spittle, "Why Tuney left me. Why she took my son" he reared back and slammed his elbow into the nose of Harry, feeling the bone crack under the strike.

He glared at the boy, looking at his nose, broken for the fourth time since he came back two weeks ago, poured blood like a leaky pipe. How his eyes were swollen shut, his face covered in cuts from being punched multiple times. He enjoyed it, doing what he did, however the one thing that always seemed to put a dampen on his enjoyment was the silence from the freak. How it just let it happen, didn't fight back. For two weeks that Vernon beat, starved, and made Harry's life hell he never spoke a word. Not a cry of help, or a whimper for mercy. Nothing. Had he been in any form of a right mind, it should have worried Vernon with how dead Harry looked behind the eyes. All it did, however, was piss him off even more. Tossing the boy to the ground, his enjoyment having been drained, Vernon stalked off, but not before aiming a kick into the boy's gut, forcing Harry to throw up a vile smelling puddle of bile.

"That better be cleaned up by the time I come back in her boy. Messing up the floor of this room I was so nice to give you" he hissed, gesturing to the room that was bare bones, only a few piles of cloth that Harry used as a bed. With a parting sneer towards Hedwig, the cage having been charmed by Harry to where only he could open it, Vernon snapped the door closed, before locking the half- dozen bolts that kept the wizard trapped.

For a spell, silence filled the room, only broken by the raspy breathing of the broken boy on the floor. Hedwig looked at her Master, hooting woefully at the sight of his broken body. The boy was far to still, unable to move, the pain coursing across his body leaving him locked in place. As he lay there, tears filled his face, splattering onto the blood stained floorboards. For Harry the tears weren't ones of pain, but ones of regret and shame. Not for what happened, but for that fact that he was still alive. Had he not suffered enough? Hadn't those he loved suffered enough because of him? His Mother and Father. Cedric. Sirius. How many others would suffer because he continued to breath? If he died then maybe, just maybe, they would all be spared. Ron and Hermione wouldn't be dragged into any of his misadventures. They could go on to live better lives without him. It was the only thought that eased him into any form of sleep, with the hope that perhaps his injuries were enough to where he wouldn't awake again.

Severus Snape wasn't a man of many emotions. Being a spy made him a master of concealing anything beyond a disgusted sneer or a withering glare. Yet, within the privacy of his Manor he was free to drop his mask, and drop it often did as he sat alone in the dark rooms. Hear, behind wards and shields, he could relax and let all of what his life was pour over him. The Potions Master wasn't sure how much longer he could keep a grip on his sanity, spying on the Dark Lord. Things were getting a bit questionable on the Dark side of things. For one, Voldemort had changed. Ever since he got his body back after that night in the graveyard he had been different. Back before he started spying on the man, Voldemort was far more ruthless and deranged. He would often kill Death Eaters for the smallest of infractions, keeping only those that were smart enough not to step on his toes or make too many waves. Nowadays, things were different. It seemed that gaining a new body had also gained him some form of humanity, to some extent. While he was still a dark wizard through and through, there was something more to his actions. For starters he had put a halt on attacking Muggles. When questioned he made quick work of the one who dared asked, after which no Death Eaters dared bring it up, let alone think about it. Snape, on the other hand, was curious. Why would the Dark Lord suddenly want to put an end to killing Muggles. While it was a great thing, as it made less work for him and less trouble for the Light side, it still troubled him as to why he'd do such a thing.

Then there was that journal. Snape was tending to his Dark Master beloved pet when he came across the black leather book. He had dismissed it at first, not wanting to mess around with any personal affects that belong to the Dark Lord. However it was open, and the nearby light was cast against its pages, almost teasing him to take a glance. The wizard knew better, and should have just let it be, yet on the off chance that whatever was written on those pages could help the light side, he dared a look. Within those pages he read words that he'd never associate with the Dark Lord. Words like regret. Pain. Loss. Sadness. It only took a second for him to memorize the words on the page, and that was all he needed to be left utterly confused by just what was going on in the mind of the Dark Lord. That had been a few weeks ago, right after Voldemort's attempt to get the prophecy from Ministry, since then he hadn't seen hide nor hare of him.

Snape let go of those thoughts as he sunk into his favorite arm chair, casting his wand towards the fireplace, igniting the logs into a warming blaze. He had sometime to think on if the words on the page were worth mentioning to Dumbledore and the rest of the Order, however, he failed to see them being of any real use. Instead Snape summoned a tumblr of his much beloved FireWhiskey, and poured him a bit of the liquid. He was about to tip the drink into his mouth, when he was startled by a sudden appearance.

"Severus, the boy needs help!" were the words that greeted him with.

The words were spoken not by a person, but by a silvery Patronus, a bear of all things. The voice of the speaker was the last person he expected to ever hear from.

"Miss. Fig. I'm sure if Dumbledore's Golden Boy were in any trouble, the old fool would be ready to swoop in with the rest of the order to save him" Severus snapped, before turning his attention away from the floating bear. Potter was the last thing he wanted to think about. He held no love for the boy, and having to hear about him while he was in the middle of his home was enough to infuriate the Potions Master.

"The Headmaster won't listen to me. He never has. I told him what those Muggles do to Harry every Summer, and every time my reports are ignored. You are the only I thought I could get through too about this"

Curiosity pulled Snape forward like quicksand, as he turned to face the Patronus. What was this about Potter's home life? He was always under the assumption that Dumbledore had made sure the savior of the Wizarding world was always comfortable. Sure he knew about the Muggles and how they didn't have a soft spot of magic, however he never gave it much thought beyond that.

"Why contact me. I'm sure McGonagall or that Werewolf would be more than happy to check up on Potter" his words were filled not with malice, but more with wary interest, as it was a fair question, as his dislike of the boy was well known.

"You are the only one who wouldn't take Dumbledore's words at face value. You are the only one who would go behind the Headmaster's words to see the truth for yourself"

The words of the old Squib hit home, and made Snape pause in thought. She wasn't wrong. Even though the man had given him a second chance at life, and he would willingly give his life for the old fool, he never would blindly follow his orders without first seeing what was going on for himself. If Fig was willing to go to him because of his willing to go against Dumbledore's wishes, then there may be something worth investigating here.

"What has happened to Potter. And be quick about it" Snape asked as he got up from his chair and began to gather various items. Including a satchel full of various potions and tinctures.

"I don't know. I just know from what his Aunt has said about her husband, Harry may be in a rather large bit of danger. She told me that her husband loves to beat on the young man, and with her having left him, I fear that he may have gotten off the deep end with hurting Harry"

"What makes you so sure on this" Snape asked, slipping his cloak on and tucking his wand up his sleeve

"I haven't seen either one of them leave that house in almost two weeks. Last I saw Vernon was the day before he got Harry, carrying vast amounts of food and alcohol"

For some reason a pang of fear raced across the mind of Snape, as his thought back to his own past, and the fear of being alone with someone who hated you. Without another word, the Wizard vanished off to Privet Drive, his mind awash with confusion, and the hope that nothing was wrong, and that he could go on hating Potter.

The night air was still when Snape popped into view, standing just before the driveway of Number 4. Nothing made a sound, and the stillness made the man ill at ease. Living as a spy had taught him to hone his senses, to listen to the world around him. He had learned that, when the world was this quiet, then there was always something wrong. He stalked over to the door, his cloak billowing in his wake. Figs words still echoed in his ears. She had been talking to Lily's sister, and from what he could gleam, none of it was good. Was Snape really that oblivious? He, of all people, should have been able to pick up signs of abuse. Then again, when it came to Potter he often cast a blind eye. Then again with most students he often cast a blind eye, however Potter often got the full extent of his ire and dismissiveness. Even then, he trusted that Dumbledore would keep the brat safe and in decent care. Regardless of that, he was here now, and was about to find out if Fig was just having a bit of fun at his expense, or if he was about to walk into something he didn't want to experience.

The Muggle lock was easily undone, as Snape soundlessly slipped into the home. Instantly his nose was attacked by a mixture of putrid smells. He could pick up hints of strong alcohol, by Muggle standards, and human filth, intermingled with festering garbage. He could see, just barely in the darkness, the heaps of trash bags that sat there. If anything, it was clear that the meticulous Petunia had indeed left, which made Snape worry all the more for Potter, even if it was slight. Casting a simple spell, Snape found himself able to peer through the walls of the house, finding a slumbering lump on the sofa which he guessed was a sleeping Vernon. Casting his glance upwards, he found another lump, this one however was far more disturbing the looking upon the fat body of the sleeping Dursley. While he couldn't see the full state that Potter was in, it was pretty clear that he had been in better shape. With little care if Vernon heard him, Snape raced up the steps, leaping over the smaller bags that were upon the steps and for the door that led to where Harry was. It didn't take long to figure out which one was his, as they locks and chains gave away just where the young wizard was kept. Not bothering with magic, he opted for a much more direct method, kicking the door clean off it hinges with strength that one would never guess the wizard had. Snape rushed in, ignoring the smell of human filth and excrement. Instead his focus was on the boy laying in a puddle of blood and bile. Casting a spell to fill the room with light, Snape turned the young man see the extent of his injuries and had to bite back throwing up.

Harry's head seemed to be nothing more than a huge bruise. His head was bleeding in spots where his hair had been yanked out, leaving bare patches of skin. His lip was split almost in half, and several teeth were missing. His nose was all but shattered, looking wrong and disgusting on the face of such a young man. His eyes continued downward, removing the threadbare rags he wore as a shirt, Snape noting that they looked similar to what he worse when he left Hogwarts, where even more damage was to be found. The boy was skin and bones, his ribs, the ones that weren't broken, pressing out against his flesh. The boy looked more like a skeleton than he did human. To top it off, going by the rough sound of his breathing, his lungs weren't in the best shape either. Snape felt something well up inside of him, a combination of rage and sorrow. It burned along the surface of his body, as he held Harry, his mind cast back to that night long ago, when he held Lily in his arms. The boys eyes flicked open, glazed over and bloodshot, though the green still came through. Green eyes just like Lily. Despite himself, a cry was pulled from him, a yell into the darkness, a wail of pain. He wouldn't lose her again. Not like this. He knew that he'd need an experienced healer for this, one whom he could trust, he only hoped that she wouldn't mind house calls.

Gathering up Harry, he prepared to Apparate, but was stopped by the feeling of cold steel pressing into his back.

"Put that freak down and turn around slowly, hands in the air" slurred Vernon, as he pressed the barrel of the shotgun harder into Snape.

The spy wasn't one to take orders from many people. In fact only two people only ever gave him orders he followed, and the vile pile of flesh that called itself Vernon Dursley wasn't one of them. The wizard let his rage build with his magic, the air crackling with the pent up magical energy. THe walls shook and the windows threatened the crack. Vernon tightened his grip on his gun, fully prepared to fire, only to find the weapon suddenly white hot, burning his heads as he dropped it to the floor, where it melted into a puddle of molten slag. Turning to face the man, who stumbled to the floor trying his best to avoid the glare of man who was exuding darkness and hate.

"Dursley, you have no idea the wrath you have brought down on yourself. If I didn't have Potter to care for you'd be suffering far more than he is. I suggest you run. Not because you will escape me, but so you will know fear as I will stalk you to the ends of the Earth and make you pay for the harm you have done here" the words weren't spoke above a whisper, yet it was the anger in Snape's eyes that made it feel like Vernon had just been shouted and cursed beyond belief. Those eyes, those vengeful eyes promises pain and suffering, and as they vanished from sight with a pop Vernon felt his bowels void and his heart pump faster than it ever had in his life.

Narcissa Malfoy sat upon her bed, a cup of fine wine clutched in her hand. Lucius was once again gone from their bedroom, preferring the evening to himself. He had been like this ever since Voldemort all but vanished from his Death Eaters. The Dark mark on her husband's arm hadn't flared to life in sometime. She thought that it meant that maybe they could try and repair their strained relationship. However the head of the Malfoy family felt it was better to avoid any and all conversations that concerned him and the future with his wife. Part of her even wondered if the man still loved her, or if he was off seeing someone else. She tried to push the thoughts away with another sip of wine, only to find its taste a bit unwelcoming. Setting the glass down, she lay on the bed, looking upwards at the vaulted ceiling. She wondered if she should check in on her son, as Draco had been mostly silent since coming home from Hogwarts. Then again he really hadn't talked much at all after his fourth year. There was something different about him, something she couldn't place. It wasn't bad, or she'd be more worried, but it was clear that something had her son's mind in flux for the better part of a year. Maybe he was finally seeing someone and that was why he was so silent. It would be a nice change of pace as, for the longest, her son seemed to be a bit obsessed with Harry Potter. A chuckle left her mouth as she thought back to when her son first went off to Hogwarts, and how he told her he planned to come back with Potter as a friend. It seemed that fate had a different plan in store sadly. SHe oft wondered what her son would have been like had he befriended Potter. Maybe he wouldn't have been so steadfast in following in his father's footsteps, becoming cold and ruthless. Then again, if they were friends, it just would have meant more heartache as Draco would have had to turn him over to the Dark Lord.

Narcissa scoffed at the thought of the moldy Wizard. She held no devotion towards the man and the way he manipulated her husband. Granted, Lucius brought himself down this path, but it didn't mean it hurt any less when he would come home, wracked with pain after having to face the Dark Lord with yet another failure. She often thought about trying to get him to defect from the Dark Lord, to turn spy like she knew Severus was. However she knew that would just bring about more problems than what it would solve. As her thoughts turned to her friendship with the Hogwarts Potion Master, she was shocked when he suddenly appeared in her private quarters, carrying what looked to be a bundle of rags. Knowing that whenever Snape arrived unannounced it was serious, she quickly threw up privacy wards in her room before speaking.

"Severus, to what do I owe this vis-Is that blood" he changed topic, rushing over to the raven-haired man as he laid the rather large bundle of rags upon her bed. She began to fuss over him, pulling out her wand fully prepared to inspect him for injuries.

"No, Cissa, I'm not your patient this time, he is" he gestured towards the mass of rags on her bed, and Narcissa followed his arm, taking a better look at what she thought was just a pile of rags. What she saw, as she pulled away the tattered clothing, made her skin crawl and her hairs on her neck raise.

"Leave Snape. Leave and come back when I'm finished. After which you will tell me everything" her voice was full of power and demanding of respect as she rolled up the arms of her robes and began to mutter various spells, racks of potions floating from her stashes, alongside bandages, ointments, and other medical equipment. Snape didn't need a second prompting, and he quickly left out from her room, taking a glance back as she set about cutting off Potters clothes, the door closing just as she threw up all over her rugs.

Snape awoke with a start at the sound of the door opening. He had taken up residence on one of the many plush chairs that filled the sitting room outside of Narcissa's private room in Malfoy Manor. A quick cast of the Tempus spell revealed it had been five hours since he had fetched Harry and sunrise was rapidly approaching. The Malfoy matriarch said nothing as she walked over to a chair just opposite Snape and slid into its embrace. SHe looked tired, both physically and emotionally. He could see it just beyond her eyes, those gray orbs swimming so much confusion and hurt.

"Talk Severus. What happened to him" she finally spoke, still not looking SNape in his eyes, instead just past him, burning a hole into the wall with her gaze.

"His Uncle happened. I suspect that this isn't a new thing for him to do to Potter, though I have reason to believe that it was never this bad before"

"What makes you say that"

"Harry would have died long ago if it was ever this bad. How is the boy holding up"

Narcissa cast her eyes towards Snape, reading past that mask he often wore, easily able to tell that he was asking not for the sake of his own curiosity or for some ulterior motive, but because part of him was worried about Harry.

"He is alive, though not well. I have fixed what bones I could, though his arm will need to be kept in a cast for a few weeks, it was broken in several places. His lungs had collapsed a few days ago, and it was his magic that was keeping him alive for so long. He is malnutritioned to an almost fatal degree, it's almost as if this boy has never had a proper meal in his life. Draco often said it looked like he never ate much at the Great Hall, unless prompted by his friends that is. His wounds will heal overtime, but the long term damage I couldn't tell you. My question for you, however, is how long has this been going on"

"I couldn't tell you even if I knew. The Squib that watches him, Miss. Fig, said that she had been feeding reports of how Harry's home life was to Dumbledore for years and nothing has ever been done, he still is sent back there every year. I'm willing to bet most, if not all of his life"

"Severus" Narcissa began, before taking a moment to compose herself, "That boy in there, he is barely hanging onto life, and mentally who knows what is going on. He needs more healing than what I can provide. More importantly, when he wakes, he needs to see a familiar face. I suggest keeping an eye on him at your own Manor. I will come by when I can to help with what I can, but right now, there isn't much more I can do for him. Also this may not be the best place to keep him, with Death Eaters popping in and out," The head of Slytherin House made a move to argue, but was moved to silence by a raised hand

"I don't care what type of history you have had with James Potter or this apparent hate you have for that boy in there, but right now none of that matters. What matters is that Lily's son, our friends son, is in there, just brought back from the edge of death. Put aside your bitterness for her, just for awhile, until we get this mess taken care of. If Dumbledore knew about what was going on, I think right now the safest place for Harry to be is in your care"

"What happens when Dumbledore find out I have taken Potter from the protection of his Aunt's home"

"If he really cared, Dumbledore would have never left him there in the first place. Now, take Harry and wait for me to come in the morning. Are there any other members of the Order who aren't as loyal to Dumbledore that you could trust"

Only one came to mind, and he was willing to bet all his gold the Molly Weasley would have a fit and string Dumbledore by his beard for what had transpired.

"Just Molly. She loves Potter like a son, and would care for him no matter what he did. I'll contact her as soon as Harry is awake, she would love to take care of the brat"

If Narcissa was annoyed with the way Snape constantly referred to Harry, she didn't show it, instead she opened the door to her room, where Harry lay upon the bed, breathing normally as he slept.

"He is heavily drugged, so he shouldn't wake when you Apparate out of here. Put him to bed and keep an eye over him until he wakes. When he does, give him three of nutritional potions. Then I want you to do something that may be the hardest thing you have ever done"

"What is that Narcissa"

"I want you to talk with Harry James Potter"


	2. Unwanted House Guest

Author's Notes: First off allow me to apologize for the time it took to get out the second chapter. Almost a month, and that is very unacceptable. I will be trying to get out a new chapter every two weeks. Sooner if work and time allow it of course. Not only that, but I would like to thank those that actually took interest in this story. I know the title is rather generic, but I promise that the story within won't be. For now, enjoy the second chapter in "The Fates of Snakes and Lions"

Harry James Potter didn't not come to the waking world easily. It had been hours since he had last truly opened his eyes, perhaps even longer, there was no real way to tell. However, as those lids slowly pulled open, and bright green irises looked around, Harry felt a sensation of shock, confusion, and fear fill him. He wasn't in his room.

Then again, it was hard to call that chamber of hell and horror a room of any kind. Yet it was still his and, more importantly, it was painfully memorable. The boy knew that, from where he passed out on the floor, he should have a great view of the steel bars welded across his window, the beams of sunlight pushing between their spaces. To his left his "bed" would be pushed in the corner, covered in filth, bugs, and god knows what else. Hedwig would be watching over Harry with those bright eyes of her, filled with anguish that she couldn't leave her cage to help her Master. For once Harry was glad he had listened to Hermione on owl keeping advice and made sure to charm her cage with as many self-cleaning and self-feeding charms he could think of. It was the last bit of magic he did, noticing the bars were back as Vernon pulled into the driveway after picking him up from Kings Cross, before vanishing his trunk and wand to the only place it could be kept safe. Grimmauld Place. Either way, when he woke up those were the sights that should have greeted him, which were to be promptly followed by pain, nausea, and pressing hands of Vernon clasping around his neck, lifting him to his feet for either another beating, or to fix him food.

However, none of this happened. Instead, Harry found himself in something he hadn't felt since his last night at Hogwarts castle, comfort. Under his fingers he could feel silken sheets. Just below that, a mattress that supported his body, cradling it softly. His head was resting upon an honest to God pillow, and he could feel a cover pulled up to his shoulders, keeping him warm. Either he had finally died and this was his heaven, or Vernon had finally gone off the deep end and decided to make good on his _other_ vile plans for Harry. He ventured to open his eyes a tad bit wider, even though it didn't matter, as his glasses had long since been broken at the hands of his Uncle. Everything was an unrecognizable blur, yet even with everything blurred the way it was, nothing looked like it belong to Privet Drive. The biggest give away, the poster hanging on the wall that was moving. If he squinted he could just make out the colors of the Chudley Cannons Quidditch team.

"Mr. Potter, I see you have decided to grace us with your waking presence" came a voice. A voice he hoped to never hear till school started again. A voice that often filled his dreams with snark, sneers, and general unpleasantness. A voice belonging to a man who made sure that Harry's already damaged life was made all the worse.

"Professor, what are you doing here," Harry found it hard to keep both the confusion and disgust of being in the same room as Snape out of his voice, not even able to bring himself to say the man's name. As he spoke, his hand rose to his throat, finding his voice to be scratchy and his throat slightly sore. Considering the damage it went through at the hands of Vernon, this was a better outcome than he should have expected.

"I live here Mr. Potter, so why would I be anywhere else. You didn't think I lived in the dungeons of Hogwarts did you" came the trademark snark of Snape. Without dropping his sneer, the Potions Master made way towards Harry, who suddenly pulled the covers tighter around his body, a move that didn't go unnoticed by Snape "Stop cowering in fear Potter, I have to check your wounds to make sure they have healed"

"I-I can do that myself Sir" the defiance in Harry's voice almost made the Snape stop. Almost. Instead it just served to irritate him further. How dare Potter deny him the right to check on him. Did the brat think he was just too good for his care? Without sparing a thought for the boys modest, Snape produced his wand and vanished the covers, leaving the boy bare to the world.

Pushing the boys whimpers and protest aside, Snape looked him over, noting than even with the smallest of sleeping gowns, Potter was far too skinny for them. Grasping the young man's face, and ignoring his flinching, Snape took a look at his nose, glad to see it was setting properly. The same could be said for the teeth that had grown in over night, at least the few times he could see them between tightly held lips of Potter. When he was sure that the boy was up to par, at least as much as Potter deserved to be, Snape retreated back to his chair, his eyes locked onto the young man, watching as he drew his legs up to his chest.

"Why am I here Sir, as I am sure any of the other Order members would have been much happier with me in their care. As opposed to being in yours"

"You ungrateful whelp" Severus started, his voice dropping to a dangerous growl, "None of the other Order would have even bothered to heed the words of Miss. Fig, instead taking Dumbledore at face value. So instead of insulting me, a thank you for saving your life would be welcome Potter. Or is the spawn of James Potter above thanking those who give him a hand. Now spare me that Gryffindor pride and tell me what happened to you while you were in your Uncle's care"

The hair or Harry's neck bristled at Snape's words. Did this man care at all? Harry could barely recall the night before, only the blinding pain and darkness of unconsciousness, but not even in his wildest dreams could he imagine Snape coming to rescue him because he actually cared. His crass words and the way he took the liberty to exam his body made Harry sick with revulsion. Snape didn't deserve a thank you, as much as he deserved a hex between the eyes. Biting his lip, Harry drew up his resolve and meet Snape's sneer with a glare of his own.

"I will tell you nothing, Sir," Harry spat, anger brimming in his voice "Maybe I didn't want to be saved. Maybe I was fine there. Besides, it isn't like I have not survived summers at the Dursley's hands before, no one cared then so why should I believe anyone cares now. If it isn't too much to ask, this spawn of James Potter would love to be left alone until a real member of the Order of the Phoenix arrives. And not some simple spy"

It wasn't clear which hit first, the pain of being verbally brought down by a mere child, or the hate being beamed at him by Lily's eyes. Regardless the mix of emotions led to only one thing in the Professor, rage. For the most part he managed to contain it, bottling up his emotions to prevent himself from lashing out at the boy. Instead, he merely left, slamming the door and leaving Potter to stew in his own problems, while he sought out FireWhiskey to sort out his.

With the room now to himself, Harry let go of the tension and fear that had been mounting up inside of him with a sigh. Even then, it still did nothing to ease his situation. He had no idea where he was, outside of in the home of Potions Master who lived to make his life hell. Resting his chin on his knees, the young man tried to bring back the memories from the night was a bit hazy, like a gray film over his mind. He could recall most of what had transpired, how Vernon had gotten drunker than usual. In his head he could still see the meaty fist of Vernon raining down onto his face. That and the pain was all he could draw up, pain he found himself all but numb to. Casting a glance around the room, his eyes landed on a bathroom. With little else to do, Harry decided to take advantage of the moment, having not had a hot shower in went seemed like forever.

Thanking Merlin that the shower wasn't an over complicated mess like the one at the Weasley's, seriously who needed an auto-expanding shower, Harry turned the taps and let the roar of the water flow into his ears. It was soothing, as steam filled the small bathroom, to just stand there and breath in a moment of peace. Not have to worry about his Uncle and whatever new torture and way to inflict pain onto his body. At the thoughts of his body, Harry eyed himself in the mirror as he slipped of the sleeping gown, unable to even meet his own gaze. His body disgusted him. How could this frail, easily broken body be that of the savior of the Wizarding World. His fingers traced the outlines of his ribs, glad that they were healed, though still a bit tender. Even despite his healers, as he highly doubt it was the work of Snape's skills, Harry could still make out the bruises and discoloration on his skin, though it was clear they were fading away, along side older scars. Though there were still certain scars that seemed to be taking forever to vanish. From reading about Healers at school and his own experience with being Madam Pomfrey's favorite patient, Harry knew that magic wasn't going to erase those unsightly marks over night, mostly due to their nature. A small smirk played across his lips, he could hear the Healer's voice now, berating him for once again getting all banged up. Though, going by the pain he had gone through for two weeks, even Pomfrey wouldn't be too hard on him. His gaze locked with that of his reflection for a moment. In that moment Harry could see only one thing. Weakness. Casting his eyes away, Harry made for the shower, hoping that the hot water would ease his pain.

Snape was furious. Even after using his wand to obliterate several rather nice vases from Narcissa, Snape was still angry. How dare that sorry excuse for a wizard say that to him. After he saved his life no less. The boy may have had Lily's eyes, but his heart was all Potter. Eschewing the glass, Snape drank right from the bottle of FireWhiskey, letting the burn eradicate his anger. Unlike with other emotions however, the alcohol only served to irritate him more, which led him to drink even more from the bottle. He swore to Narcissa he would give up drowning his emotions in liquor, yet it was far easier than dealing with his problems normally. Besides, this was far cheaper and less invasive than dealing with a Mind Healer. On top of that, part of the blame for him drinking at this moment lay with Narcissa. How could she, of all people, suggest talking to Harry? Not only did she know how James Potter was when it came to others trying to talk to him, did she really think he was qualified to talk with a young man who had been as abused as he was? Even his own abuse wasn't that bad, and besides Snape wasn't about to coddle the child either. Harry was almost sixteen if he remembered correctly, old enough to deal with any emotional problems on his own. Snape didn't have any outside help and he turned out just fine. Granted he had some bumps along the way, but it made him stronger. He had no doubt that Harry would move past this. Or use it as some sympathy card to elevate his status even moreso. His mind balked at the mental image of Potter signing books in Hogsmeade, his face plastered across a hardcover, detailing his harrowing story of survival and escape from the vile Muggles. Knowing Potter, Snape was willing to bet his contribution wouldn't even make it into a footnote. Snape's eyes cast down at the bottle noting that it was almost empty. It was the second bottle gone this week, he made a mental reminder to send Pippy to go get some more. And to brew up some more Sober Up Potions.

As he drained the last of the amber liquid, Snape took up residence in his chair to consider his options. Despite the meaning behind them, Potter was right, one of the other Order members should be looking after the boy. He knew Molly was the perfect person, and was itching to give her a call by way of Floo, yet something in the spies mind was still nagging at him. Why would Dumbledore ignore any of this? To the point where Miss. Fig came to him of all people for help. Something didn't sit right with him, and he was willing to bet that the blame could be cast onto the Squib herself. Perhaps she never got in contact with the Headmaster and now, faced with proof of her own negligence, she was trying her best to cover her tracks. It was a likely outcome, one that seemed far more believable than Dumbledore ignoring his most prized Lion. That being said, Snape put it all in the back of his mind for now. Right now his biggest focus was getting Potter out of his house.

"What do you mean in Romania" Snape growled, his eyes filled with malice towards the pre-recorded image of Molly Weasley's head floating in his floo

"I am so sorry I couldn't be reached, but the clan and I are visiting Charlie in Rom-" Snape cut the connection before the floating head of Molly could repeat her message. România. Why, of all places, did they have to go there. Not only would it be almost impossible to get a private Floo connected up there, but there wasn't even a guarantee that he'd be able to get in contact with Molly regardless. Sending an owl was also out of the question, as it could be weeks before his letter would even reach her. Meaning Potter was stuck here longer than he'd like.

As he sunk back into his chair, Snape's eyes looked upwards, still hearing the roar of the shower going above him. It had been going on for the better part of half an hour. Snape toyed with the idea of putting an end to Potter's drawn out shower, but wanted him to afford him some form of privacy and luxury. He may not be happy with the boy's existence, but he wasn't cruel enough to deny him a long shower. Perhaps he should owl the Headmaster, let him handle this mess. It would be far easier than trying to deal with Potter for however long it would take for the Weasley clan to return from their vacation. Picking up his quill, he was about to pen his missive when the floo crackled to life, and out stepped Narcissa, clad in one of her more elegant white dresses that always managed to stay free of soot during floo travel. Snape had often wondered if it was a spell she used to keep her clothing spotless, or was the Witch just rather adept at using Floo travel without dealing with any of the more unpleasant side-effects.

"I'm going to go off on a limb" Narcissa rounded on Severus, her keen eyes spotting the bits of broken glass and the empty bottle of FireWhiskey on the floor, "That your talk with Harry didn't go as expected"

"That is where you are wrong. It went exactly as I expected, with that vile boy taking time out not to thank me, but to disrespect myself and everything I have ever done at the behest of the Order and Dumbledore. Everything I have ever done for Dumbledore was so his precious Lion could beat the Dark Lord, and what is my thanks? Back talk and scathing remarks"

Narcissa looked down on her long time friend, her brow wrinkling in thought. She knew Severus wasn't going to be talkative with Harry after just one day, but even still she was more annoyed that the man couldn't see past his blind hate for James Potter to actually aid Harry. Perhaps letting Severus handle this was a grave mistake after all

"Any word from Molly, or the HeadMaster" she questioned, assuming that Snape would contact her as a quick way of getting Harry out of his house. Using her wand to reassemble the broken vases and banish the empty bottle out of existence, saving the conversation of Severus's drinking for another time.

"The Weasley Clan are currently abroad in Romania for who knows how long. As for the HeadMaster, I am about to contact him now. At this point I could care less where he sends Potter, as long as it is out of my house"

"Speaking of Potter where is he? I hope you haven't left home alone for too long Severus"

"Why should I care how long he has been alone, he is fifteen, perfectly able to take care of himself and despite his performance, smart enough not to mess with anything that doesn't belong to him"

Narcissa heaved a sigh, annoyed that Severus couldn't grasp that the boy shouldn't be alone after his ordeal. The man was woefully out of his depth. Leaving Severus to pen his note to Dumbledore, Narcissa made her way towards the Manors upper level, taking a guess that Severus had Harry in the guest room.

Her hunch was correct, as she could hear not only the shower, but also the voice of someone talking. No, not talking, singing? Casting a spell to mute the sound of the shower, Narcissa pressed her ear to the door, trying to hear if that truly was Harry singing. However luck wasn't on the side of her curiosity, as Harry shut off the shower. She could hear him shuffling about, muttering about how stiff his right arm was. Seeing that as the perfect time to introduce herself to her young patient.

After the shower, Harry found himself a bit more at ease, the heat having massaged his stress away till it was just a small ache in the back of his mind. While the stress may have left, his irritation and worry didn't abet. How could Snape think what he did was okay, in any light? Even if it was to make sure of his health, Harry had enough of people thinking they could touch him whenever they wanted, and coming from his most hated teacher added even more insult to the injury. While he was grateful to be out from under Vernon, he wasn't sure if being in the same house as Snape was no different. The wizard was vicious, at least in his eyes. To make matters worse, he could use magic and potions to do much more damage than Vernon could ever dream. A dark chuckle rose to his ears at the thought of Snape giving Vernon tips on how to torture someone without leaving any lasting evidence. The chuckle turned into a full blown shudder of disgust. Still, the thought that Snape may cause him some type of harm never left Harry's mind, and had him hope that Dumbledore would notice he was gone and come to his rescue.

That was a rich thought, Dumbledore swooping in to save him from the cruelty of someone. Considering how many times he had made mention of his home life, the HeadMaster never bothered to come save him then, so why would now be any different. Perhaps Snape could convince him that being left there wasn't for the best. Then again, maybe Snape would say Harry was just "over reacting" and "begging for attention." God he hated that dungeon bat, even if he could somewhat understand why the man disliked him. He wasn't very talented and got by on luck, instead of brains. It wasn't that he hated learning, it was just hard with the weight of having to save the entire world resting on one's shoulders. Even more so now since he knew that Snape was right, and he was just a failure. A failure who let others die for him, or fight battles that were supposed to be his own. Like Sirius. The man had only been free from Azkaban for a few years, made into a full member of the Order of the Phoenix, and right when his life was set to begin anew, it was snuffed away. All because Harry had to go chasing after some stupid Orb. Looking down at his hands, Harry tried his best to push the painful thoughts away, even as tears welled up in the corners of his eyes. Maybe Snape never should have came, and just left him there to suffer. Maybe, even if he had survived, he would have paid the price in some small amount of causing the death of Sirius.

As the emotional pain wracked his body, a soft knock at the door brought him back to the present, fixing the wooden barrier to the outside with a hard glare. If Snape thought knocking would make him more inclined to open the door to the man, he would be sorely mistaken.

"I'm not letting you in Sir. I don't care if you hurl insults at me all day, I don't want to see you" he growled, tossing a nearby book at the door for good measure "Just leave me here till someone more competent comes around"

There was a chuckle at the door, one that sounded nothing like the Head of Slytherin House, and even more surprising, it sounded as if it belonged to a female, something the young man highly doubted Snape had ever touched in his life.

"As funny as it would be to see" the woman spoke, catching Harry off guard as he tried to place the vaguely familiar voice, "I highly doubt that even the savior of the Wizarding World wouldn't be able to stop Severus from going anywhere within his own home. Are you decent enough for me to come in"

It took a second for Harry to realize what the woman was talking about, as he looked down at his towel clad self. Suddenly wishing he didn't stash his wand away within the trunk at Grimmauld Place, so he could just magic some clothes onto him, Harry quickly tossed off the towel and slipped on the same gown as before, hoping it looked somewhat presentable. At least it was a far cry better than the tattered rags he'd been wearing for the past two weeks. Part of him idly wondered where those clothes were, though honestly, he was glad to be rid of them and the memories that came with them.

"Uhm, I'm decent" Harry half-whispered towards the door, slipping back under the blankets to afford himself another layer of protection from whomever was waiting beyond the door. As the door cracked open, Harry pressed himself a bit further into the bed.

"Hello Harry. I don't think we have ever met face to face, I am Narc-"

"You are Malfoy's Mum" Harry cut her off, the lady suppressing a grimace at the boys lack of respect towards others.

"Yes, though you may call me Mrs. Malfoy, as opposed to my sons Mum. I'm also your attending Healer, so if you would do me the pleasure of pulling back the covers so I can see how we are healing"

Harry eyed the witch warily, watching her every move as she conjured a chair and took a seat beside Harry's bed, smiling warmly at her patient. There was a patient in her eyes, as she didn't rush Harry to do as she asked. Those eyes, slate gray, spoke volumes about how much she seemed to care about Harry, his well-being and his comfort

"Don't worry Harry" she began, moving her chair a bit closer to the young man, taking notice of how he flinched when she brought her hand towards him, "I'm not going to hurt you, or rush you along, you can let me examine you when you are ready. Though, while we wait for you to get comfortable, want to tell me how you knew who I was. I don't ever recall having met you before in person"

For a split second, a warm blush seemed to crawl across his face, one the young man quickly willed away, coughing to try to avoid attracting attention to it. Fidgeting with the edge of the cover, his emerald eyes glanced just over Narcissa's shoulder, fixed on the door behind her.

"He looks just like you" he mumbled, clearly feeling just a tad bit embarrassed, though the older woman couldn't understand why "In the face and eyes. Though yours aren't as angry as his"

"Well I think he inherited that particular trait from his father, though I promise he is a nice boy. He can just be a bit...difficult at times when it comes to-"

"Lions" Harry offered, though he looked back at Narcissa as she shook her head

"More like people in general. A side effect of wanting to gain his father's approval. Though, there are moments when he does light up a room" she mused, though keeping the reason for her sons actions to herself.

"Anyway, I do hope you are comfortable Harry. I...I saw what that Muggle did to you. It wasn't right, I hope you know that"

"I know that" Harry hissed, though the answer didn't meet his eyes "I'm not some abused child or charity case. Besides, I've survived worse. I've lived with them all my life, so I guess this shouldn't have been too much of a surprise"

Narcissa was about to question that statement, when Harry pulled back the covers, a sign that he was ready to move past this conversation. Not wanting to press her luck, glad for what little information she was able to gleam from their conversation, Narcissa pulled out her wand and began to perform the more complicated set of diagnostic spells. While her wand waved with one hand, the other held a length of parchment, listing off everything that was wrong with Harry and other needed medical information.

"Hmm. It would seem your bones have set rather well, though I will adjust the spell keeping your arm stiff, make it a bit more comfortable. Your teeth have all grown back, and the cuts have healed and are free from infection, which is great. I am worried up your diet though Harry. How often did you get fe-eat" she quickly changed her wording, though both parties in the room knew that fed was the perfect word to describe his diet at the hands of Vernon.

"It...it was enough Mrs. Malfoy. Nothing like a Hogwarts feast, but it was enough I guess" his voice sounded shallow and resigned, as if being fed little to nothing was a given fact of life. Another note was added to the sheet in her hand, and it was one that made her eyes go wide. She looked at Harry and then back to the paper. Clearing her throat, she considered breaching this particular subject with the young man, but she knew that this...this was something that was far to out of her depth.

"Alright Harry, I'm done here. Now, after I readjust cast spell on your arm I want you to take one of the blue potions I'm going to give you. It is a Nutrient Potion. You are woefully underweight, and if we want you in top form, that means we have to put a bit of meat on your bones. Also, take the red one as well, it will help you get some deeper sleep, as you still need rest"

If the young man was going to put up a protest, he surely didn't show it, his face a mask of emotions. It was clear there was still something going on in his head, stuff that would take ages to be sorted out before he could feel any better. As she fixed the cast and gave Harry the potions, Narcissa couldn't help but look down at Harry, a heavy weight of pain lodging in her throat. To see her friends son like this, it brought the reality of the world that they lived in down upon her. More than that, it let her see the weight that Harry was carrying in a brand new light. No one should ever have to deal with so much misfortune in their life, and not at such a young age. As Harry took both potions, Narcissa carefully tucked the blankets around him with her wand, giving him a slim smile.

"Thank you Mrs. Malfoy" the boy yawned, as the power of the red potion began to overtake him

"You are very much welcome Harry, now sleep well. Good night"

As the door closed and Harry's world was plunged into slowly encroaching darkness, the young wizard couldn't help but feel a spark of warmth within him. He never had anyone say goodnight to him, let alone tuck him in. Was this what it was like to have someone care for you? Maybe she only did it since she was his patient, as Madame Pomfrey used to do the same thing for him. However the thought that she cared for him helped him drift off with some semblance of a smile on his face.

Meanwhile Snape was just finishing off his letter to Dumbledore, handing it off to Pippy to ensure a prompt delievery. As the house elf left with a crack, the Potions Master sat back in his chair, a grin of pleasure on his face. Soon, the Potter brat would be out of his house and life. Things would go back to normal and he could push all of this out of his mind. The summer had really just started, and he didn't want the dark cloud that was Potter's mere existence hanging around. Perhaps once Potter was gone, Snape could make use of his Pensive, and get rid of the memories of the past few hours.

He was taken out of his thoughts by a hand softly landing upon his shoulder. Looking upward, the soft and fair face of Narcissa met him, though it was clearly marked with lines of sadness and worry.

"Please don't tell me Potter tried to manipulate you with his sob stories. I told you, that boy is fully capable of dealing with his own issues without dragging other down with him"

"Is that what you really think, or just what you want to believe Severus" Narcissa shot back, removing her hand and taking up the seat beside the hearth. "Did you know that Harry had been hurting himself? Did you even bother to run even the most basics of checks over his body? If you did you would have known that he has multiple scars and wounds that are due to self inflictions"

"The Potter brat is a clutz Narcissa, he probably got them from just walking around. Potter is to vain to do harm to his own body" Snape reasoned, refusing to even entertain the notion that Potter would start hurting himself. The look on his friends face, however, seemed to speak the truth.

"Regardless of what you feel, the facts don't lie. His scars and bruises are healing, with the exception of ones around his arms. You know as well as I do that self inflicted wounds don't heal with magic"

"Then, by all means find Potter a Mind Healer to talk to. None of this is of my concern, not in the least bit. Besides" Snape continued, standing to his full height as the fireplace roared to life with the telltale green color of Floo travel "Soon this will be Dumbledore's problem, and not mine"

Said wizard popped from the Floo, dusting off soot from his robes. It was clear, if one were to go by the sleeping gown just peeking out from under his robes, Dumbledore was roused from his slumber. That being said, his eyes were showing no hints of being tired, and instead were twinkling as always.

"I take Harry has already been seen to by you Narcissa" Dumbledore addressed the Malfoy matriarch, speaking softly as if not to rouse a sleeping child, which may have been his plan.

"Potter is soundlessly asleep in my guest room HeadMaster, no need to whisper" Snape hissed, gesturing at the third, and unoccupied chair for the HeadMaster to take, "I assume that you have found someone to take him in"

"Actually, I have," Dumbledore stated, those eyes twinkling once more at his most trusted Spy, "First, allow me to apologise. I should have pressed Mrs. Figg for more updates on Harry's home life, as this is the first time that she has shown any form of worry for the young man. Harry had come to me about his home life, but I sadly paid little heed to them. After all, growing up surrounded by Muggles, I just assumed he wished to escape to world that he felt more connected to" the sincerity in his words reached Narcissa, who looked both saddened at the HeadMaster's admission of guilt, but also pleased that he was a strong enough man to admit it. Snape, on the other hand, had other things on his mind than the guilt of Dumbledore.

"That is all well and good HeadMaster, but what are we to do with the boy? I assume you managed to get in contact with Molly Weasley about this matter"

"Actually Severus, I have chosen not to employ the skills of Mrs. Weasley. Not only does she have her hands full with her own brood, but also the Burrow doesn't offer proper protection needed to keep Voldemort and his followers at bay. Sadly the only place that offers any form of protection for Harry would be Privet Drive, though, with Petunia gone, the protection spells tied to their blood will dry up shortly"

"So" Narcissa chimed in, feeling a bit left out of the covnersation "I take it you have found the whereabouts of Harry's aunt for him to stay? I don't think that would be the best action Sir, at least for Harry's sake"

"I agree Narcissa, which is why I have found another place for Harry to stay for the time being. It is probably the next safest place for Harry to be, as it is the last place Voldemort would ever check"

Snape felt his heart suddenly skip a beat. Those twinkling eyes and that calming tone. Dumbledore, while not easy at all to read, even with Legimancy, often wore his plots on his sleeve when they were about to pay off. It was clear from those glinting orbs that whatever he was going to say, Snape wasn't going to like it, and he knew deep down what it was.

"I know what you are thinking Severus, but it is the best place. Not only is it already heavily warded, but once Voldemort finds out that Harry is no longer at Privet Drive, this would be the last place he would check"

"I will not do it, Sir" the last word was filled with every ounce of venom and hatred that a single person could possibly muster. The fact that Dumbledore would even suggest the idea of Potter staying here even a minute longer was something that the Potions Master wouldn't stand for, "Potter is not fit to be in this house, nor am I prepared to care for your spoiled Lion"

"Severus" Narcissa stepped in, pushing Snape back to his chair, as he had stood in anger without even noticing, "As much as I hate to admit it, the HeadMaster does have a point. Harry isn't safe anywhere else. Even if you are in the Inner Circle with Voldemort, you can't know everything he is planning at all times. At least if he is here, Voldemort won't find him here"

Even under their, admittedly sound logic, Snape wasn't willing to accept it as a fact, nor put up with it. However, those ever twinkling eyes told Snape that the choice had already been made. He hated it when Dumbledore would do that, take matters into his own hands when it concerned his own life and well-being. Well, while he may have to watch the brat, he certainly had no thoughts of carrying for him in the least bit. Snape was already making a list of rules that the boy would follow. Perhaps even throw in a few chores to ensure his idle hands weren't mucking about too much in his home.

"Then it is settled" Dumbledore clapped his hands together, standing to take his leave, "Since Harry is asleep, I will visit him later this week, at least to sooth any misgivings he may have about his current situation. Narcissa, seeing as you have already taken it upon yourself to see to Harry's health from what Severus has told me, I'd like you to be the only one to keep up with his health. Now, if you excuse me I have plenty of paperwork to finish up, seeing as I am already up for the day. You both have a wonderful day" Dumbledore said, his calming voice filling the room with a bit of warmth as he activated the Floo and vanished back to Hogwarts.

"I can't believe that old coot would even consider this a valid option" Snape bemoaned, releasing pent up irritation at the position he suddenly found himself in. Of all the things Dumbledore had ever asked him to do, somehow having Harry 'Bloody' Potter live in his house was the worse of them all.

"I know it isn't ideal Severus, but it would only be for the summer. I am sure Dumbledore will find a better option after the school year starts. Now, if you excuse me, I must return home, Draco is probably awake already. I'll tell your Godson you said hello"

If Snape was listening, he gave no outward indication of such, instead he just sat there, staring at the ceiling, willing his eyes to burn holes into the room where Harry was current staying. The green flash of the Floo brought him back to reality, as the silence crept back in. It was much more soothing to hear nothing, it gave him solace. Perhaps if he could keep Potter busy, then the boy's natural inclination to get into trouble would be dampened. Besides, Pippy could use a bit of help keeping the manor clean. Snape grinned deviously, as he pictured Potter toiling away at cleaning task the Muggle way. Yes, that would make this all the easier. If Potter thought he was going to stay here without some form of payment, he was going to be so sorely surprised.


	3. Promises and Atonement

**AN: Sorry it took forever for this one, got a bit held up with life and such. However, I am trying to get back into the fray and actually post stuff up in a somewhat timely manner. Also, another reason why it took awhile for this to come up was due to the fact that I was a bit stuck. Originally I had planned on starting the story from where the next chapter begins and fill in the backstory as I went along. However, that didn't work to well and I began writing was is really just a prologue. With this being the last chapter and all of the main players introduced, with the exception of a certain blond ferret which happens next chapter, I can move into the meet of the story. I do hope you all enjoy what I have planned for Harry, Snape, Draco, and the rest.**

* * *

Morning didn't come easy for Harry. The past two days were, in retrospect, filled with worry and possible near death experiences that nothing really didn't register in the mind of the young wizard, at least when it came to his current situation. In fact, as he awoke, reality came crashing down on the young man, and in a way that wasn't too pleasant.

He awoke on the floor, his new glasses off of his face, and the blurry shape that was the spare room that had been provided to him. Struggling to free himself from the covers, his eyes landed on a dark shape that sat off in the corner, an unfocused face looking down at him with utter disdain. For a moment, Harry felt his blood freeze. Had Snape sold him out to Voldemort? He couldn't make out the details of the person, but he did see their hands curling around what looked to be a wand. Wishing he had his, Harry attempted to make a scramble to escape his apparent attacker, only getting more entangled in the mess that was his blankets.

"Stop panicking Potter, it makes you look more pathetic than you already are" came the cold, disdain filled voice of the Potions Master. His wand waved about in the air, and the covers vanished, folding themselves neatly upon the bed, and leaving Harry free from their entrapment.

Reaching out, he found the glasses gifted to him, apparently Mrs. Malfoy had left them for him the night before, on the bedside table and quickly slipped them upon his face, bringing Snape and the room back into focus. The professor made no move to help the boy to his feet, and instead sat there, glaring as Harry stood. Despite the platoon of potions left behind by Mrs. Malfoy, the lingering pain from his punishments from his Uncle still throbbed. It would be a few days before they fully dulled away, though it didn't make it any more appealing to have to deal with a physical reminder. The mental ones were enough as is.

"Potter, where is your wand, and your trunk? Did your beast of an Uncle destroy both of them"

"No" came the curt reply, as Harry slid onto the edge of his bed, refusing to meet the eyes of the man "They are at Grimmauld Place. I figured, if Vernon was going to keep my trapped at least he couldn't get a hold of my things"

"Utterly stupid" Snape admonished, not paying the lock on Harry's face any attention as he stood from his chair, the bottom of his cloak billowing outwards, "You may not be allowed to use magic outside of school, but I highly doubt the Ministry of Magic would have held it against you if you attacked your Uncle. If you can't think enough to handle a single Muggle, then I feel sorry for the lives that are now on your shoulders Mr. Potter"

Within his mind, Harry saw flashes of both Sirius and Cedric, followed by the burning sensation of bile rising into his throat. The man was right, but he refused to sit there and give him the satisfaction of knowing how those words felt. Instead, the Gryffindor bit his tongue, and leveled a stony stare at Snape.

"What do you need from me, Sir" came the sneer of Harry, one that would have made Snape proud had it come from one of his snakes.

"What I need, is for you to learn some respect and show some gratitude. I may have to let you live here, but it won't be for free, nor will I allow you to lollygag the summer away"

With another wave of his wand, a list and a bucket full of cleaning supplies and what looked to be comfortable enough pants and shirt appeared at Harry's feet, prompting the young man to pick up and look over the almost foot length roll of parchment. Irritation and anger boiled under his skin as he read over the list of chores and demands. It was as if he had never left Privet Drive.

"The House of Prince is old, large, and will be given your utmost care. More than you show for your classes and learning. You are to finish these before the night is over, consider it as earning your keep. Pippy, my house elf, has already been told not to help you, and unlike other elves, she has no problem allowing someone else to clean. I expect not to see hide nor hare of you Potter, even if we cross paths while you are cleaning"

"Yes Aunt Petunia" Harry muttered reflexively, his mind set on auto pilot. There really was no escaping his fate, was there? No matter where he went, he was always going to be used by someone. Well, with the exception of Dumbledore at least. The old wizard at least seemed to care for him, even if he wasn't as attentive as he would hope. Without sparring Snape a second glance, Harry picked up his supplies and went into the bathroom to change, already falling into the trance that had been drilled into him from years of forced labor at the hands of the Dursley's.

Feeling satisfied that Harry would follow the list to the T, Snape left the room, however as the door shut he felt something tugging at his mind. He expected Harry to argue and fight back. Granted, he was glad that he didn't as Snape wanted to avoid an argument this early in the morning. However this was a far cry from what he was used to seeing from Potter at school. The boy was always argumentative when it came to his detentions and punishments. Yet here he seemed...almost resigned to it, as if it was another part of the routine. Part of him almost wanted to push and pry into the boy's mind, to find out what was going on, yet he pushed that part down. It was bad enough to boy was living here, no need to dive any deeper into whatever mess was in that head of his. Besides, it made keeping the boy busy a lot easier if he didn't care about his emotional state. Even if the rational part of his mind was telling him otherwise.

* * *

Long after Snape had departed, Harry had launched himself into the list that he was given. For the past few hours he had scrubbed, swept, mopped, and dusted almost the entire first two floors. Snape's list hadn't be anywhere near as taxing as what his Aunt often pressed him to do. The young man had to suppress a chuckle, perhaps Snape was under the impression that being forced to clean the Muggle way was going to be an arduous task. If only he knew about the task that he did every summer. Then again if he did, then maybe Snape would finally care. Or, in reality, use it as inspiration. Regardless, Harry had quickly fallen into an easy rhythm of cleaning, keeping his eyes only on whatever objects required his attention. ' _Don't let me see the whites of your eyes while you are cleaning boy'_ , Harry could hear in the back of his mind, wincing at the imagined blow to the back of his head that would often accompany those words. Vernon made sure to press that lesson into his mind when he was young, saying good little freaks only should have eyes for whatever they were told to do. As he polished a trophy he could almost swear that he was standing behind him and not the statute of armor he had to clean next.

Taking a small moment to dip his cloth in the magically replenishing bucket, the only magical item he was allowed to use, Harry took a moment to take in his situation. In all honesty, he was still in shock. He had been resigned to dying at Privet Drive just a few days ago. If not dying, at least not making it to the next school year in one piece. Of all the people that came to his rescue it was Snape. That was probably the hardest thing to believe. Granted, from what he could gleam, Snape didn't come to check on him under his own volition. Hell, Harry could barely remember the night that Snape came, just the relief that came with being able to escape from that place. That is what mattered, right?

The young man let the cloth fall back into the bucket with a splash, before sinking to the ground, his knees pulled into his chest, realization dawning upon him. He was free. Free from the life of pain and torture that was living with the Dursley's. Even if it wasn't the most ideal place for him to be, he should at least be grateful, if not throwing himself at Snape's feet for rescuing him. Maybe it didn't matter that Snape didn't care about his well being, the man had already done more for him than most adults had ever done in his life. Perhaps the least he could do was what the man wished, if not more. Yes, if doing chores upon chores for the emotionally distant man was what it took to pay him back, then Harry was more than willing to do so. Jumping to his feet with a sense of renewed purpose, Harry began to put his all into cleaning at the multitude of trophies that sat within a glass case. It wasn't the only case in the library, to be sure, but Harry felt it was probably the safest to open and clean. The others seemed to be filled with various dark artifacts that would do more harm than good.

As he banished the years of grime that coated a pair of gold covered boxing gloves, his eyes spotted something tucked away just behind the trophy. Curiosity getting the better of him, the young man reached out and tugged the small item, revealing a picture frame no bigger than a wallet. Like most things in the case, it too was coated in a thick layer of dust, and required a bit of vigorous cleaning to see beneath the glass. Once he did, however, a gasp found itself caught within his throat. There, in full color, was a picture of three young people, no older than 12. As the people in the picture shifted and moved about, Harry could pick out two of the three. Snape was an easy pick, his hair still sporting the same greasy length now as it seemed to back then, though it looked a bit a bit less tamed. To his left stood a witch with flowing black hair, one whom he had never seen before. Yet, those two weren't the reason why he gasped and felt some emotion well up inside of him. Staring at Severus, longing in her eyes, was his Mum. He had never seen her this young, but that hair and those eyes, they couldn't belong to anyone else. She looked happy. Full of life. Alive. A witch with so much ahead of her, and all of it taken away by a madman. A madman who wanted to kill Harry. Swallowing the pain and despair, Harry quickly slipped the photo back, trying his best to put it just how it was. Maybe he should ask Snape about her, about his Mum. He had only heard stories about his Dad's life, but the most that ever came out about his Mum was just how similar their eyes were. Maybe if he proved his worth, than Snape may be willing to tell him about her, Harry reasoned.

Erstwhile, in the deep dungeons of the House of Prince, something was brewing, both in a cauldron and the mind of a certain Potions Master. Potion making was a deep and almost religious practice. It required not only the brewers utmost attention and passion, but also their heart and soul. For Severus, surrendering all of this seemed to bring calm and peace to his world, with that came understanding. The potion in question was nothing to extreme, just something for a few private clients that he had, however he still gave the potion his everything. While his body moved and worked on it own, his mind, or at least parts of it, seemed to be else where, those thoughts concerning Harry Potter.

Why did fate always seem to be pushing him into the young wizard's life? Even before Potter was born, Snape was intertwined with his life. From his rivalry with James, one that turned violent, to his love for Lily, that had only been returned once. Everything in his life seemed to lead to him coming back in contact with Potter. He had thought that keeping an eye out for the brat at school would be the extent of it, but now he couldn't escape him. Rather, he couldn't escape those eyes. Those bright green eyes. Lily's eyes. It was the only part of Potter that Snape ever paid any attention to, the rest looking far too much like James. It was the only living connection to Lily he had, and it hurt to see those eyes in pain. Maybe that is why he did what he did, and saved the boy. Sure, he was obligated to as a member of the Order, but he could have passed along Figg's words to anyone else. He should have. Yet, he couldn't shake the feeling that those eyes, Lily's eyes were in danger. Snape had failed before, he wasn't going to fail again and let the light die from those eyes.

So why did it bother him when he looked back on his small exchange with Potter? Not just the exchange this morning, but overall. It wasn't like him to put much stock into Potter's life. Then again, it was always easy to ignore the boy. Now, with him being around him more in the past few days then his entire time at school, ignoring the pain Potter was feeling was incredibly tough. Maybe it had to do with his own life, and how his own upbringing mirrored bits of Potter's. While he never had it as bad as the boy, Snape's life was often devoid of love and understanding. Trapped between a family of wizards who hated he wasn't a pure-blood, and a muggle father who wanted nothing to do with him, Severus never really had time to truly be a child. Oh he had moments, glimpses of joy, though only when Lily was around. Or he was at school. Or the moments of peace and calm between himself and his mother. Yes, he had those moments to be a child, but Harry? Did he ever really get a childhood.?

Snape oft imagined Harry's life at the Dursley's to be a picnic, living among muggles who worshiped the ground he stood upon. The boy never gave any outward notion to the contrary. Then again, Snape never looked for the signs or cared enough to even entertain the notion. Yet, looking back, they were there. The look of utter amazement towards food the boy displayed at every meal. The way he coveted personal space. Those green eyes, filled with fear and worry. Sure, none of the other teachers at Hogwarts would notice, but a trained spy would. At least, a train spy would, if he had cared back then. Now, in the present, he felt a pang of regret. Harry had known only pain and suffering, and he had done nothing to help or change that. The boy never had a childhood, or a chance to enjoy being a kid, being forced into a war from birth. He had known death, sorrow, pain, loss, and so much worse, and he was only fifteen. Though he would deny it, Snape felt something akin to sorrow. No child should have to deal with what Harry was dealing with, not alone or ever. It may have been too late to fix the damage done in the past, but perhaps, just maybe, he could help Harry into a better future.

The eyes of Snape were cast off of his potion and over to a small picture that sat above his fireplace. He didn't have many personal items, at least along the lines of pictures, yet this one was special. It was of Lilly, sleeping peacefully beside the very fireplace where her picture sat. She was curled up, contented. Even with those eyes closed, Snape could still feel their bright green blaze searing into his soul. He recalled taking this picture, and what had happened after. He recalled the promise he had made to her, a promise he had been trying his best to keep. Perhaps Harry was the way towards keeping that promise.

* * *

While Snape began to plan on building a relationship with Harry, for both of their sake and for the memory of Lily, Harry out in the garden, pulling up the multitude of weeds that dotted the flower beds. It wasn't among the list of chores that Snape had given him, but after relocating a few spiders from within the house, he had spotted the garden and the shabby state it was in. In the boy's mind, he figured that he may as well get started on this project early, seeing as he was not only done with the inside chores, but perhaps predicting what Snape would have him do next would help towards his goal of earning the man's respect. Not only that, but like cooking, tending to the garden had been the only highlight in the list of never-ending chores that were heaped upon him by his Aunt and Uncle. As he collected weeds, singing lightly to himself as the sun began to drop below the horizon, he felt a sense of calm over take him. It was often like that, whenever he was free enough to sing and enjoy life. His eyes were cast upwards, watching the sunset. It was a beautiful moment, one he was glad he was alive to see. The young wizard could count on his finger tips the number of times he had seen a sunset that he had enjoyed. Before, he would see them after being forced to sleep outside. Or from behind glass windows after classes or in detention. Here, however, there were no conditions to enjoying and seeing this sunset. It was just Harry and the setting sun. No sense of dread about being cold as night came, or having to endure scrubbing cauldrons for Snape. Watching it all, and letting that peace flow around him, made the young man's eyes spark up, and his voice climb a little higher, a wordless melody flowing past his lips. As his emotions and feelings were vocalized, he heard something shift behind him, and turned to catch Snape staring at him. Instead of stern judging eyes, they looked to be misty, and filled with emotions that Harry never would have associated with Snape.

The older wizard had been there for sometime now, having planned to fetch Harry for dinner and to hopefully start working on building some sort of relationship with the boy. That plan fell away the more he watched Harry worked. He had been there long enough to not just admire Harry's tancity at which he worked on the garden, but also the voice he had. It was light, soft, and perfectly pitched. Just like his Mother, the young man had a knack for singing, and just like Lily, his voice was oddly soothing for the Potions Master. He didn't intend to stand there and stare at his new charge and listen, but he found himself unable to break the boy away from what he was doing. Harry looked to be at peace, enjoying a rare moment in his life when no one was lording over him, no wizards were trying to kill him. He was outside under his own power and volition, and to see him like that hardened the resolve of Snape even more. He would ensure that Harry would have more moments like this. Moments to enjoy life, and to be a child, and not someone lost in a middle of a war they never wanted to be a part of.

"S-Sir. I'm sorry. I know the garden wasn't on your list, but I figured tha-"

Snape held up a hand, signaling for Harry to slow down and stay silent for a moment. A pang of dread ran across the young man. Had he already done something wrong? He wanted to try and start off again on the right foot, and he had already messed something up. As he prepared for the shouting that was due to come from Snape, Harry was surprised when the Potions Master began to speak in a low, almost calming tone.

"You can relax Harry, I'm not here to chew you out. I-I just want to talk, please, sit down" Snape gestured towards the stone bench, waving his wand over it to conjure up a soft cushion for them both to sit on.

As they both took a seat, the apprehension was heavy on both of their faces. Harry, still worried that he had done something wrong and was about to face a less restrained wrath from Snape. Snape, who was afraid of saying something wrong and ruining his chances to give Harry a childhood. Both of them sat there, in silence, not looking at one another, as if waiting for that right moment to speak.

"She loved it out here, in the garden" Snape started, still not looking at Harry, but rather at the garden where the young man had just been, "She'd often sit there, showing off all the flowers she had planted. This was long after the last of the Full Blooded Prince's had died off of course. We were a older than you when she would come to stay here. A few days at a time"

"You loved her...didn't you" Harry knew the answer, he could see it written across the man's face. Those angular edges seem to soften a bit, and a look of contentment took over his features.

"More than you ever know. The point I am getting at, Pot-Harry. Is that your mother was someone special. She was like you in some regards, though much better at potions I must say. Yet you two are so similar in other ways. I have spent so long looking at you as the son of James, and not as the son of Lily"

Snape turned towards Harry, watching as the young man stared back, his eyes a bit misty, full of tears. His body seemed to be full of emotion, all steaming from just the few kind words said about the one person whom he knew little about. His own Mother. Even now, as those green eyes well with tears, Snape couldn't help but see Lily in Harry. Someone who was so strong, and yet fragile at the same time. The Potions Master had never given Potter credit for displaying the same toughened edge and attitude that Lily had, but as he looked back it was there. Lily was still there, living on in her son. A son that deserved better in his life.

"I can't take back what has been done Harry. Yet, what I can do is give your something more. Here and now I promise you, I will give you back your childhood. Give you a life worth living. Not just because you are Lily's son, but because you deserve it. It wo-OMPF"

Harry didn't know what came over him. Was it the wave of sadness, or the tone in his Potion Master's voice? Whatever it was, the young man just felt an overwhelming urge of relief and happiness. Snape was giving him a chance. More than that, he was trying to give him a chance at a new life. Not because he was needed for something, or because of pity. No, it was because he was Lily's son. His mother. No one had ever compared him to her, and seeing how just thinking about Lily made Snape seemed to light up, made Harry's day. If being compared to someone who could bring a since a joy to a seemingly joyless man, then Harry was proud to be recognized as such. It was the reason why he wrapped himself around Snape, crying into the man's cloak as he held him tightly. He didn't know how long he did that, just held on tightly to Snape, but it felt right. For years he had been denied something this simple, a hug from someone who cared for him. Even if it was a temporary thing, as Harry would soon come to fear, in that moment Snape cared. Harry felt and knew that, and he wasn't going to let go of that moment.

Eventually the two departed from one another, after Harry spent a few minutes apologizing about messing up Snape's cloak. While the man was a bit annoyed at having been used as a crying rack, it was very short lived. Harry needed that and he couldn't bring himself to deny the boy such a thing. Even now, as he retired to his bedchambers, his cloak hung neatly upon its rack and night clothes on his body in its stead, he wondered what was going through the boy's mind. Though the boy tried his best to keep his happiness down to a minimum, Snape could tell he was bursting at the seams. Looking at Lily's son like that made it clear that his life had been devoid of simple pleasures and happiness for far too long. As the middle aged Potions Master settled into his bed, his mind was buzzing with just how to go about this. He knew that, despite their little breakthrough, it wasn't going to be easy going. Harry wasn't a trusting person, and by putting the lion's share of what little trust he did have in Snape's hand, Harry was risking a lot. Part of him was very uneasy about this. What if he did more damage than good? He needed at least three drinks in the day to deal with his problems, so how could he tackle Harry's as well? Regardless of these thoughts, he did his best to banish them. This wasn't about him. No. This was for Lily. Perhaps, if he did a good job, she could forgive him in the afterlife. As that thought sent him off to sleep, another one began to enter his mind. It was a thought that had been itching at the back of his mind for days now, and he had never thought to address. Yet, in a moment of peace the thoughts was seeking to be acknowledged. In a flurry of blankets and bed-sheets, Snape bolted up from his bed, looking out into the darkness of his room. If she was a Squib, how did Abrgila Figg send him a Patronus?


	4. An Odd Start to an Unusual Day

**AN: WHAAAT, an update! I know right, it has only been like...four months. I am so sorry about the delay. Between a new job, with better pay, and a few other issues I haven't had the time to write like I used to. Luckily I managed to work around my schedule and finish this up. So now, enjoy the next chapter in this story, with a bit** **more** **backstory and understanding of certain characters feelings and motivations. Next chapter, that is where the fun will begin, as Draco fully enters the picture. Stay safe, and enjoy!**

* * *

Morning dawned early on Malfoy Manor. Golden beams of sunlight were casting out the dark gloom of night that seemed to permeate the place. As warmth filled the frigid nook and crannies, a certain wizard had been up with the sun, putting quill to parchment.

The writing desk of Draco Malfoy was strewn about with various crumpled bits of paper, all covered in ink that was bleeding through the thin material. Words like "I am sorry" and "Truly love you" could just barely be made out among the hastily written notes. Not only that, but the various goblets that had been collected told the tale of a young man who had been hard at work writing something for sometime. Part of him didn't even know why he was writing this letter. The chances of it reaching the person it was meant to were non-existent. Even then, why would Harry Potter even respond to them.

"Even if we did have a moment" muttered Draco, his thoughts still swirling on why he was writing the letter. Though, as his mind cast back to his fifth year, he knew why.

Draco never truly hated Harry. In fact most, if not all, of his animosity towards the Savior of the Wizarding World stemmed from wanting to please his father. Draco had been groomed that he was the best, and that others would flock to his side, or bend to his superiority. When he heard that Harry Potter would be coming to Hogwarts the same year he was, Draco had been over the moon. Here was his chance to make friends with the famous Harry Potter. More than that, here was his chance to make friends with the Boy Who Lived. He always imagined that Harry was hidden away, being trained and groomed just like he was. Yet, when the first met, he was already in with a Weasley.

Since then, since that day Harry had spurred his handshake, Draco felt robbed. That something that was rightfully his had been stolen away. That red-head and that Mudblood, they had stolen away **HIS** Potter. It was this that led to Draco's rivalry with Harry. Yet, as time went on, and as they clashed, Draco started to actually look at Harry. During small moments with his friends, how he'd laugh. Those other moments, when his face would be contorted in confusion at some small problem. As time went on, Draco noticed Harry more and more, as well as his feelings towards the wizard. It was this that made the fact Harry never accepted his friendship hurt all the more.

Then came Fifth year. Everyone was still reeling from the death of Cedric, and the return of Voldemort. While most of the school thought he was crazy, Draco knew the truth. His father had been over the moon, and had spent so much time trying to make Draco into the perfect Death Eater. Something that Draco never wanted to do. While everyone was busy worrying about the seemingly approaching war, and pushing Harry away as crazy, Draco was busy actually watching Harry again. While his so called friends may not have picked up on it, Draco did. The young man was crumbling, breaking slowly under the weight on his shoulders. Sure, he put on a brave face, but after so many years of watching Harry, Draco knew when the young man was putting on a front.

Draco was actually worried for Potter. Even when he sided with Umbridge, a move prompted by his Father, the youngest Malfoy felt a pang of guilt every time he had to turn Potter over to that pink toad. Every time he did, Draco wanted to do nothing more than try and comfort a boy who was already hurting, but his sense of duty and want to earn his Father's respect forced his hand. Forced him to adopt that cold, Malfoy demeanor. It never stopped him from thinking of to comfort Harry, without coming off as insulting, or letting their rivalry get in the way. Or, even worse, letting both his Father and Voldemort get wind of what he was doing. He didn't get his chance till the end of the year. Till he found Harry in the Astronomy Towers, crying his eyes out.

* * *

 **End of Fifth Year**

Draco had no idea what drew him to that tower. It was the end of the school year, and the entire castle was too busy fearing the officially confirmed return of Voldemort, leaving classes to be canceled. Yet, he was climbing those steps the evening before they were all due to return back to their parents. Perhaps it was the fact that, up there, it was quiet. Away from the gossiping students, all of whom were worried about the impending war. Away from the constant pull between wanting to please his father and wanting to be free of the man. It was above it all, a place where one could be out of reach, if even for a few moments. As he sat there, looking up at the night sky, Draco felt a small rush of peace. Here, it was calm. Silent. Peacefully. At least it was, until he overheard sniffing.

Fearing some snot nosed First Year had perhaps followed him up here, Draco pulled his wand and followed the source of the sound, ready to hex whomever it was. As he neared the closet were the sniffing was coming from, Draco put on his best, "I'm better than you" face, complete with a condescending grin. With a flourish, he yanked the doors open, and pointed his wand at the person within.

"What are you do-Potter!" the grin dropped, as Draco locked eyes with the tear stained face of Harry. A tear stained face that was turning beet red with shame and fear.

For a second, no one did anything. Draco's wand never moved, and Harry's green eyes never left Draco's. In that moment, as Draco looked down at Harry, he felt something he couldn't really understand. All he knew was, seeing Harry like that, it hurt him for some reason. As the second slowly passed, Draco made the first move, slowly pocketing his wand, and looking down at Harry, worry clear in his eyes.

"P-Potter, are you...crying" the answer to the question was obvious, something that Draco realized, but he didn't ask for confirmation, more like he asked out of worry. Harry, however, didn't take it that way.

"Go away Draco. You don't have Umbridge's backing any more, so don't think you can get away with doing whatever you want to me" snapped back Harry, who made a move to leave the closet, only to find his way blocked by an unmoving Malfoy.

"Harry, just stop. I didn't know you were up here. I just….never mind why I was up here. Look, if you want to cry, be my guest. Just, don't do it where I can hear you" it was meant to sound harsh, scathing. Yet the tone Draco have was more caring, and filled with a certain kindness that one wouldn't expect from the Ferret. It was also something that made Harry all the more wary, his eyes narrowing behind those glasses.

"Whatever, just get out of my way and I'll leave you to your brooding" snapped Potter, who didn't wait for Draco to move and slipped past him, storming angrily towards the exit. As he did so, Draco reached out, and caught his shoulder before he got to far, and the young man felt Harry tense under his fingertips.

"Listen. I know it isn't my place, for so many reasons, but, don't leave. If this is where you need to be, then stay. I'll leave you to..whatever you need to do"

Draco didn't know why he said what he did, it honestly felt like something his mother would say. Something that would allow someone to leave graciously, and still preserve your own integrity. Beyond that, it felt right to do so. Harry had lost so much already, and deep down, Draco didn't want to take away something as small as the young man's right to grieve how he saw fit. He may have been his father's son, but Draco still had some humanity left in him. Turning to leave, Draco wanted to say something, anything to perhaps console Harry, however nothing came to mind. Instead, he was filled with an urge to hug the young man, to tell him it would be alright, even if that was a lie. As his hand clutched that brass handle, Draco wanted nothing more than to turn around and be there for Harry, yet he knew it would be far to wrong. They had no real relationship beyond their arguments and fights. Still, as he went down those steps, Draco wished that he had done that.

* * *

It was those feelings, the ones filled with worry, regret, and care that had kept Draco writing for days on end. Every time he thought he came close to the perfect letter, he'd find a flaw and start from scratch. Even now, he was balling up his latest missive. IN anger, he quickly sent the ball aflame, and watched the paper curl in on itself. This all would be so much easier, he reasoned, if he could just talk to Harry. To apologise for years of terrible actions and words between the two. To verbally try to amend their past, and try to craft a new future. Yet, such things would never happen, or ever be so easy. After all, it was only Draco who felt anything that night, at least that is what the blonde reasoned. Come sixth year, both he and Harry would be at each other's throats once more, back into their old cycle of childish hate. If only Harry had taken his handshake that day,

"Or if only I wasn't such a prat that day" Draco bemoaned, as he lay he head upon his desk, a bit harder than intended, something that was rather unbecoming for a Malfoy.

"Still sulking I see" came the light voice of his mother, who had let herself into her son's room rather silently. She had been standing at the door for awhile now, dressed in her everyday robes, a shoulder bag slung to her side "Perhaps you'd care to accompany me for the day, I have a few errands to run before meeting with your Godfather"

The last part perked Draco up somewhat. He hadn't had a chance to see Snape since the end of the school year. His Godfather often had his own ways of keeping Draco out of the doldrums of life. Perhaps he could convince the man to give him yet another Boxing lesson. Yes, that would help push his mind away from Harry, give him something else to focus on. If only he knew that his mother was planning for the utter opposite.

* * *

While both the Malfoy matron and her son were getting ready to start their day, Severus was already up with the sun and starting to grow rather annoyed.

He felt progress between Harry and himself had been made. The two had come to an understanding. While it wouldn't erase years of animosity, it was a start.

Yet, despite this, Snape was feeling his old ire towards Harry start to rise. It was well past seven in the morning and the young man had yet to make his way downstairs. To say Harry's lack of morning urgency irked Snape would be an understatement. The day was meant to be spent staying busy, being productive, not dozing off under the covers.

As the Grandfather clock ticked ever closer to Eight, Snape had found what little patience that was left drain out. New start or not, Snape would be damned if he was going to let Harry stay in his room all day. Taking a moment to drain off his coffee, laced with just a bit of Fire Whiskey to get through the day, Snape stalked towards the upper floor. While he wasn't wearing his cloak, his steps still bore that same graceful and menacing stride. The man took the steps in long strides, arriving at the room far faster than he had anticipated. The man entertained the notion of knocking on the door, at the very least letting Harry know of his arrival. Perhaps even giving the boy a moment to save face. Yet the fact that Harry wouldn't even bother to rise to have breakfast with him after their supposed "reconciliation" irked that form of rationale away. His hand gripped the brass knob, and with a push, one filled with irritation, the Potions Master strode into Harry's room.

"Summer vacation or not, I do not take kindly to those who would wile away their mornings in bed" came the cold, snide tone of Snape. Part of him questioned if that was the right tone to take, as it was just far more natural for him to be demeaning towards...well anyone. However, he was spared any possible fallout from his tone of voice, as Harry was nowhere in sight.

The room almost bore no sign that there had even been an occupant within its walls. The bed was neatly made, everything crisp and wrinkle-free. Nary a speck of dirt or dust was on the walls or floor. From his vantage point he could see the bathroom, lights off, but he was willing to bet it too was spotless. He would have said that this was the work of his House Elf, but for some reason the level of cleaning seemed to speak of a more hands on approach. Pippy may be steadfast in her duties, but even she wouldn't have bothered to scrub the windows until they shone brightly. Not only that, but the biggest tip off was the bucket and rag he had given Harry just the day before, resting just off the side of the bed.

"What in Merlin's nam-" he began, but found himself cut off by a rustling coming from just behind him. Rather, not just behind him, but in the wardrobe behind him. The sound of a shifting body could be heard, trying its best to find the door in the darkness. After a few more moments of fumbling, the large wooden door swung open, and out tumbled a disheveled Harry Potter.

"I-I'm sorry Sir. I didn't know what time it was" Harry began to apologise, having barely made it out of the Wardrobe in full, a robe still tangled around his arm. After a few moments of pulling and tugging, he managed to get fully untangled from his accidental bonds, and reset the robe back into place "I had been up trying to get the room in shape that I overslept"

"Overslept in my wardrobe no less" Snape commented, making a mental note of this odd behavior "Tell me, is my bed not pleasant enough for you Potter" he tried to ask, though, and even he knew this, it sounded more like a jab thrown at the young man.

It was instantly obvious that Harry took it as such, his body posture changing in moments. Instead of the tired, slumped over shoulders of a young man who slept very little; his eyes steeled and his posture became more defensive. The muscles on the boy, the ones he could make out, tensed, as if expecting an attack of some kind.

"No. Sir" Harry suddenly spat back, as he too found himself falling back into their old routine of harsh teacher and scorned student. While his voice sounded fully ready to dive into an argument, those eyes spoke otherwise. They seemed ever slightly downtrodden.

" _Damnit Severus, now is not the time to fall into this routine"_ he heard a voice echo in his head. He knew it was his own thoughts, his conscious playing with. Yet he could have sworn that it had sounded a lot like Lily. Perhaps his customary morning drinking was starting to get to him.

Taking a breath, Snape closed his eyes and reined in his more spiny persona. He wanted this to work, needed it to work. Harry deserved better, and Snape couldn't afford to let his old ways hurt progress. Taking yet another breath, Snape opened his eyes and looked back at Harry, who never stopped glaring at the man.

"Look, Harry. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to overreact. I was expecting you to be down for breakfast, though, in hindsight, I never told you of such things. Going forward, I would like to see you at the table before Eight A.M. There is never a good reason to spend your mornings in bed. Or, in your case, a wardrobe" the final part, surprisingly, sounded less like a lecture and more like a joke, as Snape felt the corner of his mouth twitch ever slightly as the words left his mouth.

It would seem that his words did help defuse the situation, and Harry finally relaxed, the calm returning to his body. The tension eased out of his shoulders, before the boy shuffled from side to side, looking more like a child who was itching to say something, than a young man with a sense of agency.

"What is it Potter, I can see you dying to ask me something"

"It's just" he began, an embarrassed blush starting to creep across his face "I kind of need you to leave so I can shower and change" he finally admitted, still looking down at his feet.

With a mental sigh, and a note made to try to help Harry with his apparent confidence issues, Snape acquiesced, gesturing towards the bathroom before taking his leave.

"Please, do not dawdle, as we do have a few task to accomplish today, and I would rather not have the plans backed up because you wanted to take an hour long shower" the Potions Master commented, before leaving the Harry to his privacy.

As the door closed shut, Harry released yet another breath of air, glad that Snape had finally left. It was one thing for him to be comfortable around others when they had to take showers, even then Harry was known for rising early to take his in order to avoid anybody seeing his frail and disgusting body, but for Snape to see it? He was still mortified that his Professor had seem him like that not too long ago. An involuntary shiver rushed across his body. The idea of anyone seeing him nude, it just felt wrong. Revolting. No one should have to see such things, reasoned Harry. Running his hands through the messy strands of black hair, the young wizard made way for the shower, but not before stopping by that bucket from thee night before. It was still filled with cleaning liquid, just as fresh and warm as if it had just been filled. At the bottom sat a heavy metallic object. Something he had found when cleaning out the garden. It was small, to be sure, but as he reached into the water to pull it free, the young man knew that it would be enough. Casting looks across the room, as if expecting someone to arrive and call him out on his actions, Harry gripped the object tightly, before rushing off to the bathroom, his eyes slightly cloudy, heavy with thought.

* * *

"Well, at least it was not an hour this time" Snape commented, sitting down at the table, his eyes watching as Harry finally entered into the kitchen.

True to his word, Harry wasn't in the shower for an hour, but forty minutes still seemed to be a bit excessive. Regardless, the man was at least pleased to see that Harry looked a little more awake than before. Not only that, but that the clothing he had Pippy lay out for him managed to fit as well.

"Was that meant as a joke, Sir" asked Harry, who tugged a bit at the long sleeved shirt that he found folded upon the bed. Much like the pants, which seemed to have some charm to keep them neat and crisp, his shirt felt far too dressy for just being in the house. Then again, considering that Snape said they had a few errands to run, perhaps he just wanted to make sure that he didn't look to sloppy.

"You have known me for six years Potter, since when I have ever made a joke" the man continued,his voice flat, and seemingly void of any form of self awareness or sarcasm, "Not only that, but I feel that breakfast time is never a good time for jokes. No matter what your red headed friends think otherwise" Snape continued, his hands gesturing towards a plate laid out before Harry.

With a smirk, knowing full well that Snape was talking about the twins, Fred and George, Harry took his seat, before eyeing the plate of food. It looks delicious. Thick cuts of bacon, a side of fruit, scrambled eggs with a bit of toast. It wasn't over light, nor too heavy. It was just the right amount of food for someone who hadn't been able to eat a proper meal for sometime. However, all he could do was stare at it, a pit forming in his stomach. The food looked too good, almost a lie. His mind couldn't help but recall an incident not too long ago, and it made his stomach turn all the more sour.

"Thank you Sir, but I'm not all that hungry. Those nutrient potions Mrs. Malfoy left for me are plenty enough" the lie was quick and smooth, from years of having to lie to his closest friends and even Mrs. Weasley. If he could get a lie past the Weasley matriarch, then Snape would be no problem.

There was a beat of silence, both men staring at each other. Snape, searching those eyes and that face for any hint of the truth. Harry, doing his best to maintain a poker face that had been forged from hundreds of beating at the hands of his Uncle. All he did was recall every moment his Uncle told him not to cry when he was beat, and drew upon that experience to keep his face ironclad.

"Regardless" Snape enucated after the pregnant pause, "One cannot live off of nutrient potions alone. I will allow you to go without breakfast this day. This afternoon, however, you will eat what Pippy prepares for you with no complaint. I do not particularly wish to draw the ire of your Healer, as she can be rather..particular" the older man finished, before pulling out his wand to banish the plate of food away.

As the food disappeared, Harry felt a pang run across his stomach. While it did hurt to just let such good looking food go, he didn't want to risk it. Even if Snape may be trying to make an effort towards his well being, it didn't change Harry's sense of self preservation.

Just as Snape was about to question the look that had just crossed his charges face, a rush of magic ran across his body, swiftly followed by the sound of a fire roaring to life. Both wizards cast their eyes towards the end of the hall, were the all to familiar green glow of a floo call could be seen illuminating the darkness.

"Master Snape, Mistress Malfoy is calling for you" cried out the shrill voice of Pippy from down the hall. A few moments later her tiny head peered out from behind the door, looking down at her Wizard, "Shall I tell her to call you back Master"

"No" Snape sighed, as he stalked away from the table, leaving Harry to just stare at the man as he made way for his personal office "I am coming right now. Please, Pippy, make sure Mr. Potter doesn't go wandering off, as I still wish to talk to him"

"Mr. Potter can hear you" Harry called out, feeling a bit put off by not being addressed directly, but was ultimately ignored as the door closed, leaving both himself and Pippy alone in the rest of the house.

The tiny house elf began to slowly walk over to Harry, her tunic, made from what looked to be a rather expensive silk pillow case, dangled just above her ankles. As she neared even closer, Harry could make out the symbol of Slytherin house, emblazoned upon the fabric. It was clear that, from how clean it was, Pippy cherished this pillowcase well.

"Mr. Potter will get nowhere with Master Snape with a mouth like that" pippy admonished, leaping up into the chair to stand at least chest level with the wizard "Though, Pippy does approve of Master Potters cleaning skill. Are you sure you are a wizard"

A chuckle escaped from Harry's mouth, one that slowly turned into a full blown laugh. Listening to Pippy's words did have a fun way of putting things into perspective. Outside of a few select moments, magic really only existed for Harry within the walls of Hogwarts. Beyond that, for all intents and purposes, he lived like a Muggle. Hell, magic had only been a part of his life for six years, so perhaps Pippy was right to question such things.

"Yes, Pippy" harry managed to get out, his chuckles dying down, "I am a wizard. Though that doesn't mean I don't know how to handle myself without magic. I reckon I could give your gardening skills a run for their money. Without using a drop of magic"

A crude smile, one that took up most of the House Elf's face, began to break out across Pippy. She extended a hand towards Harry, who took it warmly.

"A consider yourself challenged Mr. Potter. I have never met a wizard who worked with his hands. Well, outside of Master Snape of course. You are a funny wizard Mr. Potter"

"Yeah" Harry sighed,recalling those same words from both Griphook and the centaurs within the Forbidden Forest, "I tend to get that a lot"

* * *

The quip from Harry did not go unheard by Snape, who merely rolled his eyes before shutting the door to the office, his wards flaring to life to prevent any listening ears from hearing his conversation. After years of working as a double agent, Snape learned to not only value his privacy, but also to protect it with all cost.

"It is nice to see that Harry hasn't driven you mad just yet" came the calm voice of Narcissa, whose head was hovering within the green flames of his floo.

Snape pulled up a chair, waving his head in the air to send a tumbler of scotch floating his way. The glass nestled in his hand, and barely had a splash of FireWhsikey inside of it before Snape was tipping it down his throat.

"If you say so. It has only been one day since we had a little talk together. While I will try to do my best to see Lily in him, I have a feeling that Potter won't be making that easy"

"What makes you say that: his closest friend questioned, not keeping her annoyance at Snape's day drinking off her face

"Well, he is terrible when it comes to getting up before the crack of dawn. Not only that, but it seems that the bed I have provided for him is not as comfortable as a wardrobe. He was sleeping in there, after he apparently spent the night scrubbing every inch of the room clean"

"And did you think to ask him about any of these odd behaviors" came the simple statement from Narcissa, who looked as if that was the most simple of things to do.

"No. I was too busy apologising for getting upset at the brat. I have never seen Potter look both defensive and afraid at the sametime. In class, whenever I berate him, he usual takes it with a straight face. Here, it is like he is just more afraid of-"

"What you will do to him" Narcissa finished, before taking a moment to sigh in both frustration and worry, "Think about it Severus, he has spent his entire life at the hands of a monster. At the hands of a grown man whom he could never escape from. At Hogwarts, when facing down you, it is only for a few hours, and he knows he is protected by the schools laws from physical harm. Here, in your home however, it is a different story. Take care with how you handle him, or you could just be digging yourself into an ever deeper grave" warned Mrs. Malfoy, who made sure to level Snape with a stern glare.

Snape, who couldn't met her gaze, instead busied himself with pouring one more shot of whiskey, before banishing the bottle away

"That was my second and last one of the day" he lied quickly, glad she wasn't around to see the four shots he had with his morning coffee, "I will try to do my best with Potter. I can't make a single promise though. He doesn't make things easy"

"Well I don't see how anything would be easy if you were plastered most of the day. Please, be sure to take a Sober Up potion before Draco and myself arrive"

"Draco is coming over. WIth Potter here" came a shout from Snape, his mind playing back just what sort of shenanigans those two got into at Hogwarts when they have butted heads "Are you trying to cause another Wizarding War with those two at the center"

"Stop being so overdramatic Sev" Narcissa laughed, "I am well aware of how both of those boys act around each other. Also, as a mother, I also have more intuition on the subject than you could ever have"

"But you are not around them during the school year, you have no idea how often those two try to fight one another"

"Oh, I am well aware. Just like I am well aware of Draco's reasoning for being bitter towards Potter. Not only that, but seeing as your house guest only has yourself and Pippy for company, I figured that he could use a somewhat familiar face. Not only that, but I want to play a hunch I have"

"Not one of your famous hunches. Last time you had one of those I ended up trapped in detention with James Potter"

"Which wasn't as bad as you through it would be. Regardless, we will be over in a hour, so I would take this time to warn Harry about our arrival. Besides, i want to check up on him one more time. Speaking of which, at some point you are going to have to talk to him about those cuts on his arms. Better to do so now, while he is somewhat open to talking about his health"

"Mr. Potter would never be willing to discuss anything like that with me. Moment or no, we haven't reached that level yet"

"Then offer him something in exchange. Tell him about something he would love to know about. Like Quidditch, or Wizards Chess"

"Right" snorted Snape, "Because those are subjects that I know all about"

"Right, I forgot you are dreadfully boring. Well, whatever you talked about within that moment you mentioned used that. What did you both end up talking about anyway"

Snape looked at the fireplace, or rather, looked just above it, at the photo of Lily. His Lily, staring right back at him.

"Oh. I see" Narcissa stated, a knowing smile coming across her face "Use that then. Tell him about his mother"

"I will try. I will see your shortly Cissa" Snape finished the conversation,watching the floo go out in a puff of smoke. Walking over to his desk, the not so young man took a seat, before reaching into a drawer to pull out a worn leather book. Turning the cover over, he looked at the various photos he had secreted away. Perhaps one of these would make for a good trade to get Harry to open up to him. Or, at the very least, to be civil upon Draco's arrival. He just had to figure out which one was more important.


	5. Starting Up Anew

**AN: Well this took a bit longer than i wanted it to. Had to find the right tone for Draco, still working on it, but hopefully I can get it down pact. Not only that but I had a bit too much fun planting the seeds for the first OC character in the store, with Morgan Lockneed. They are going to be a blast to write, and provided some great conflict as the store goes on. I plan to get the next chapter out before the end of the year and answer a few questions, among them is just how Miss. Figg managed to cast a patronus as a Squib? That one, I hope will be somewhat satisfying, and add a little more light on a smaller character in the series. Till then, enjoy the story! Also, leave reviews, be they good or bad, I love hearing feedback.**

* * *

It was hard to tell when the last time tensions rose this high among the Death Eaters. Even after Voldemort's supposed death at the hands of Harry Potter, the Death Eaters had managed to hold it together. However, this time was different. The Dark Lord was very much alive. He had brought them all back together. He promised them many things. Yet, after his run in with Potter at the Ministry of Magic, he hadn't been seen.

The sudden disappearance of their Lord is what drew five Death Eaters to a bar deep within Knockturn Alley, among them was Lucius Malfoy, who kept looking behind him, expecting the Dark Lord to spring out and curse them all.

"My God Malfoy, would you stop that. Your constant swiveling is making me sick" came the gruff and demanding voice of Greyback. The werewolf, who reeked of Earth and blood, sat at the head of the table, just to the left of Lucius. It was clear that, wherever he had come from, he was in some sort of fight. There had been whispering of revolt in his pack, though everyone in attendance had reason to believe that he had silenced those who tried to rise up.

On his left were the Carrows, Alecto and Amycus. Both of them wore smug grins as they watched Malfoy go silent, his eyes drawn downward. While neither one of them fancied the spineless man, they at least had to admit his presence did offer some amusements. There had been a long running bet between the two of them on when his sniveling attitude would get the better of him. The last in attendance, and perhaps the most threatening of all of them was Igor Karkaroff. His imposing frame took up his end of the table with ease, his great hands wrapped around a goblet filled to the brim with ale. Despite his appearance, he wasn't some dumb brute, and was the one who had called this meeting to order.

"Yes, Lucius" he spoke, his strong accent drawing the attention of the others, "The way you are acting would make a lesser man believe you had sold us out. However, someone like you would never dare to break our trust. Rather, you aren't capable of such acts" he continued, earning a chuckle for Fenrir.

"Regardless Igor" interjected Alecto, leering at the man over her own drink, "I would love to know just why you called us out here. We all should be waiting to hear from the Dark Lord"

"That is exactly why I called you here. It has been months since the Dark Lord has shown his face. Even longer since we have even been summoned to convene. Ever since his last run in with Potter" the man spat the word with venom, the disgust filling his eyes "Our Lord has not come out of hiding. Not even his she-bitch Bellatrix knows where he is"

A silent gasp ran across the ones at the table, each one slowly scooting away from Igor. It had been a well known fact that The Dark Lord didn't take kindly to anyone who would insult his most devout follower. One foolish Death Eater once called her out her name, when neither one of them were present. His Dark Mark had burned his body to cinders, and sent a message to all others. As it stood, the other four were expecting Igor to meet the same end, yet he merely stood there. He looked each one of them in the eyes, eyes that were burning not with magical fire, but with pure confidence that he would not be harmed.

"H-how" hissed Lucius, once it became apparent that Igor would not die that moment "How are you still standing. The Dark Lord hears all through our marks, not even Snape was spared this"

"Because, my sniveling friend, The Dark Lord isn't listening. Rather, I don't think he can"

The four Death Eater looked at one another, ignoring the smirk across Igor's face. Could it be true? Could the Dark Lord no longer hear when they spoke ill of him, or even spoke his name? They had all known about the curse of the Mark's. How they reacted to any sign or emotion of ill will towards the Dark Lord or the ones in his inner circle. Yet, Igor, after calling Bellatrix a she-bitch, was still sitting, enjoying his drink.

"Vol-Vold-Voldemort" whispered Amycus, closing his eyes, braced for a world of pain. It never came, not a lick of fire, or string of curses "Voldemort!" he suddenly shouted to the sky, followed by a laugh of relief.

The laugh of relief spread across the table, all in attendance saying the one name they would never say. All, that was, except Lucius. The silver haired man looked at the four before him, and then at his own arm. For ages the mark burned into his flesh ruled his life, his drive, his own dark ambitions. Now...now there was proof there was a sense of freedom before him.

"Come one Lucius, give it a try" spoke Fenrir, who jabbed the man in the ribs, bringing him back to reality.

The man looked at the others, noting their eyes, and how they were searching if he would join in with them, or be a problem to be removed. He saw the hand of Igor slip under the table, no doubt grasping his wand in case Lucius wasn't on board. Just like that, the threat of death was back. It may not be in the form of Voldemort, but Igor was just as deadly. The only difference being, he was human. Knowing that he would have to keep low, Lucius raised his glass to offer a toast.

"To freedom. Not from Voldemort. No. Freedom, from Tom Riddle"

The silence that followed seemed fall across the entire room. Even the flickering of candle flames became muted. The four Death Eaters all looked at Lucius. An alive Lucius as he drown his drink, after speaking aloud the true name of the Dark Lord. That silence was broken by the thunderous clap of Igor, who also raised his glass.

"You are to right my friend. To freedom from Tom Riddle, and, to the birth of a new Death Eater uprising"

They clinked glasses and took healthy swigs, before looking at Igor, though only Amycus was the first to speak up

"What do you mean by new Death Eater uprising"

"I didn't just ask you all here to test if my hunch was correct. No, I also came here to offer you all a place at a new table" Igor began, before waving his wand to conjure another chair, the table shifting to accommodate one other person "You see, it was not I who discovered that the Dark Lord wasn't listening. No, it was someone else. Are you all familiar with a Death Eater known all as Morgan Lockneed"

"That vile bit of work? That is who came to tell you about this" came the hiss of Alecto, her grip upon the table turning her knuckles white "The Death Eater who deals in young Witches and Wizards"

"The very same Alecto. And while you may not agree with his methods, he has converted many of our future followers. The fruits of his labor are already in Hogwarts, Illvermony, and even Beauxbatons. He has done what many of us haven't" Igor spoke.

Alecto was about to retort when a cloud of smoke slowly curled into the chair, the wizard in question Apparating into view.

"Please, Igor, you are making me blush" came a decidedly German accent. Unlike the others at the table, the man kept his appearance shrouded behind a thick cloak and concealment charms "Though you are right, I have managed to get more agents into Hogwarts the Tom Riddle ever could"

"How can we even believe the words of someone whose face has never been seen. All you are to us is a voice" continued Alecto

"Oh, just a voice" spoke Morgan, his accent shifting from German to Italian "I am more

than just a voice, my dear dear witch" his cloak once more turning to smoke as he appeared behind Alecto, prompting her brother to draw his wand. A pale hand; smooth and youthful, snaked from out the cloak, tracing a line along the throat of Alecto. Even though he couldn't see it, as the darkened hood looked his way, Amycus knew trying to hex him would be a bad idea.

"I am the future of this order. If you wish to have a future yourself, I suggest you step in line and not speak ill of me" his voice suddenly lacked any accent, or even gender signifier. It was low, wispy, and brought a chill to the air. Without warning, he was back in his chair, leaving behind a trail of smoke, and a terrified Alecto, a burn mark in the shape of a hand upon her neck.

"Now, for the rest in attendance, I think you all get the picture. I am not one to be questioned or tested. Much like you, I grew tired of the control in place by Riddle. I tire of his petty rivalry with Dumbledore. How he is foiled by a Muggle raised child. I grow bored with his antics. His sudden vanishing is proof that he isn't the leader we need any more. We need one that will bring the Death Eater order to task, and to subjugate this world.

"And you are suggestion yourself" spoke Fenrir, who had stayed silent, but kept his teeth bared, in case he felt the need to rush across the table and rip the man apart.

"Naturally. After all, I have many eyes and ears in the one place Riddle could never get into, Hogwarts. I have the added bonus of being utterly unknown. Riddle got too large, too noticeable. He let his ego get the best of him and he is losing control of the very order he founded. I feel that it is time for a change. All I ask is for you to trust me. I don't require silly pledges, or for you to bare my mark. Just trust that I will give you the world on a platter. All you must do is heed my words"

It was hard to deny that the man, or woman, spoke with all the charismatic grace of a true leader. Their voice held a combination of both power and guile. Like under a trance, the four Death Eaters all nodded together, seeing the truth in his words.

"Now, before we begin bringing the others to our side, I must confess one thing. Riddle and I do share one thing in common. An obsession with one Harry Potter. He is a figure head, and fixated point of hope for the Wizarding world"

"What are your plans for him" spoke Lucius, his curiosity growing ever faster "WIll you finally kill him, unlike Riddle ever could"

"Kill him? No, that is far too easy, and not nearly as fun. I want to break him. Reduce him to the pathetic child he is. I want him at my feet, begging for my mercy. And that is where he will stay. At. My. Feet' those last words were spoken with something far more sinister than just the threat of death. The words, the felt wrong, evil, as if the speaker of such things was plotting to do dark things to the boy who lived. They all knew of Morgan's reputation, and even the darker rumors. For once, five Death Eaters felt a pang of pity for Harry Potter

* * *

"I can't believe I agreed to this" came the clearly irritated voice of one Harry Potter, as he pulled rather nervously at the collared shirt Snape had lent him.

The young man was curled up upon one of the large chairs within the library at Prince Manor, a rather thick looking book across his lap. It was the only place he thought Snape would never come looking for him. Perhaps if he hid out here, then he could avoid having to deal with Malfoy and his impending arrival. The thought having to see Malfoy was bad enough, but then to know that he would question just why he was here, that was what made his stomach turn. The only saving grace in all of this was the book in his lap. It seemed to be relatively new, and from what he caught from Snape though his haze of anger, spelled to only allow him to see a few pictures of his mother. Part of him felt bitter for knowledge of his mother being limited for an arbitrary reason, yet when he saw that first picture, he decided to let it go.

Even now, as he picked up the red leather book and cracked it open, the fact he would soon be spending time with Draco didn't seem so bad with his Mother's face smiling up at him. Like the photo he had found before, it was over a much younger Lily, when she was still an Evans. Each one seemed to have his mother smiling, full of life or wonder. Harry would have questioned why Snape had so many pictures of her, but he was glad to have what he did.

Stroking a photo of his Mother standing over a brewing cauldron, Harry heaved a sigh before letting the book close again. Snape knew so much about her, and it made Harry feel all the more conflicted about the man. It was no secret between the two of them that the long-haired man loved Lily, but how much? Was it ever returned, or were these the pictures of a stalker with a crush that had been taken too far? It was hard to tell, as Snape was a hard man to read, his intention even tougher to do so. Perhaps, if things went well today, he could try and pry something else out of Snape about his Mother. Maybe then he would know for sure if he was a stalker that had a far too strong obsession. Provided he survived his day with Draco.

A shiver of what he always thought was disgust ran across his body. It always did that whenever Draco entered his mind. Followed closely by the sensation of his stomach flip-flopping. It was clear his body was disgusted by Draco, at least that was the only way he could interpret it. They, the feelings, only seemed to grow as he had gotten older. At first, around Fourth year, he was convinced that Draco had cursed him, when he was looking at Draco and felt his chest flutter. He had gone to see Madam Pomfrey who only seemed able to chuckle at some unknown joke, before sending him off. He didn't know what was so funny, but as long as his life wasn't in danger from Malfoy, Harry figured he could live with it. Still, he didn't really know how to explain those moments when he would lock eyes with Draco and feel...something beyond their mutual hate for one another. For just a few moments, Harry could look in those eyes and just feel...something. Something that seemed to get him swept up and lost in the moment. Then he would be pulled right back into reality by Draco's trademark insults. Perhaps it was some new spell that Draco was using, one to confuse him.

Whatever it was, Harry was certain he would keep a more watchful eye on Draco, just in case he did suddenly decide to become hostile. Opening the book to a new page, another photo began to materialize. This one was different from the others, as there was no evidence of Hogwarts castle in sight. Instead it was of his Mother, swinging on a worn out plank of wood. She had to be at least twelve in this photo, and was no doubt smiling at SNape who was behind the camera. As the magically animated picture moved, Harry found himself staring thoughtfully at it. Was this where they grew up together? A park where they would come and talk about their lives beyond Hogwarts? The more he stared, the more he questioned what their lives would have been like if Voldemort were never a thing. If Harry hadn't been born? Would those two have eventually found their way back to one another?

His eyes were still cast down on the picture when he noticed something else. Just there, right in the shadow of the tree, he could see movement. Even with his new glasses he could just barely make it out. Ever so often something would fidget from within the tree's shadow. Peering closer, Harry could make out a long neck, and a face pulled back in disgust.

" _Freak!"_ the word suddenly screeched into his ears, prompting him to toss the book away and cower in a ball. She was back. His Aunt was back and had caught him goofing off.

Harry could feel the oppressive walls of the cupboard around him, the thundering steps of his Uncle coming to get him. ' **THUD' 'THUD' 'THUD'** Every heavy footfall seemed to inspire dread. He had to escape, get away. Get help. Staying curled up as he was wasn't going to help. Heart pounding wildly, the young man risked a glimpse between his arms, and suddenly felt rather silly. He wasn't at Privet Drive. He was still in Prince Manor. Despite this, everything he saw felt too real. He could still smell the damp and moldy cupboard. His entire body could feel the phantom vibrations of his Uncle storming down the steps. It was like his nightmares, but far more visceral. He hadn't thought about them in ages, in fact he was actively trying not to. It seemed, however, his mind was having other ideas.

No longer feeling in the mood to sit in the library alone, Harry figured he may as well find Pippy again. Or, depending on how much he didn't want to be alone, Snape. As he stood, the young man felt the world turn on its end, his foot slipping out from under him, sending him crashing towards the floor. His glasses skittered across the floor, leaving him visually challenged as he rolled onto his back, groaning in pain.

" _On your back just like your whore of a mother"_ came the cruel words of his Uncle, his face suddenly fading into view. The hot breath of Vernon bathed across his face, as that thick meaty hand gripped his throat

" _Useless. Just like her. I wonder if she could have taken a few more hits than you did"_ the phantom Dursley said, as the pain from the strike he spoke of radiated from his right eye.

Harry struggled to find a grip on his sanity. It wasn't real, it couldn't be real. Yet, it all felt real. He could feel the hand on his throat. Slowly it was pressing harder and harder on his windpipe, making it all the tougher to breath. His hand reached out for his left arm and pressed into it tightly.

"It isn't real. It isn't real" he chanted over and over again, focusing in on the pain that was blossoming from his arm. It felt red hot, burned fiercely. He could feel blood welling up from behind the makeshift wrap he fashioned from one of the cleaning towels from the day before. The longer he pressed into those wounds, the faster the image of Vernon faded away, until he was looking up at a fuzzy ceiling. The pressure in his chest was gone, taking with it the sense of suffocation. Heaving a sigh of relief, Harry looked at his arm, trying to see if any blood had managed to soak into the shirt. The cloth was a dark blue color, and luckily, the few spots of blood that did soak beyond the makeshift band-aid weren't too noticeable.

Harry laid there, staring up at his arm, or rather past it. His eyes seemed to be a bit glazed over, as his mind began to wrestle with what just happened. It was like his nightmares had come to life. He was used to being attacked by a dream version of his Aunt and Uncle on an almost nightly basis, but he had often been free of such things when morning came along. Yet now...now they seemed to want to plague him while awake. Harry could only hope that it was a one time thing, as he didn't need hallucinations to go with his long list of other issues.

"Mister Potter" came the voice of Pippy, who appeared with a sudden crack beside his head. "Mistress Malfoy and her son Mister Draco have arrived. Shall I help you to your feet to go greet them"

"No Pippy" Harry managed to get out, as he staggered to his feet. Bending down, he padded out for the blurry shape that was his glasses, though Pippy beat him to the punch, passing them into his hands. With his vision restored, able to see Pippy standing before him, Harry gave the House Elf a thankful smile "I think I can manage to make it down there myself. Besides, I'm not in the biggest rush to see Malfoy" he continued, as he grabbed the photo album, clutching it close to his chest.

"Well Master Snape is awaiting you in the Drawing Room alongside his guest. I suggest rushing if yous want to stay on his good side"

With a snort at the idea of Snape having a good side, Harry did take her words to heart and made way for the rooms exit. His first stop would be the room, to at least drop off the photo album. Not only that, but to also change the strips of cloth on his arm. If anything, he didn't want to run the risk of staining the nice shirt Snape had given him. Not only that, but years of having to patch himself up instilled a need to keep clean wrappings on any of his wounds, self-inflicted or otherwise.

* * *

Meanwhile, within one of the many drawing rooms in Prince Manor, Snape was already in conversations with Narcissa, while Draco was doing what his Father had always drilled into him, being seen and not heard. For the most part, he was keeping to himself, looking over a few titles the filled the shelves of the drawing room. Mostly potion books, but they were always more interesting than listening in on his mother's conversations. However, that didn't stop him on picking up on some of what they were saying.

"So" continued Narcissa, who was seated across from Snape, looking far more comfortable here than she did in her own home "How is your guest doing"

"Fine. For the most part, though I would rather we didn't speak about him now" muttered Snape, clearly trying to wait to the last minute to reveal the fact that Potter was staying in his home to Draco.

"Someone is staying with you Sev" Draco spoke, using a name for his GodFather that was to only be spoken within the walls of his home.

"In fact he does my son" interjected Narcissa quickly, heading off Snape before he could speak, "Another student of his, one that you know rather well, is staying with your GodFather for the summer"

"Really? I know you said you'd make any Snakes that flunked potions work over the summer with you, but I didn't think you would do it. Is it Zanibi, oh please let it be him. I would love to lord this over him

"A Slytherin doesn't lord anything over his fellow housemates. Not only that, but my Snakes know better than to fail my class" he said with a sneer. However it was true, he often threatened those Snakes in danger of failing with a Summer vacation spent under his care. In the fifteen years he had been doing so, no Snake ever dared to get below High Marks in his class.

"Regardless of who it is, you will treat them with every ounce of respect befitting a Slytherin. I will not have a miniature Wizarding War taking place in my house" continued Snape, making sure to keep his eyes level with his GodSon. He really didn't want to have either one of the boys come into contact with one another. If he had it his way, both boys would have been confined to different parts of the estate, unaware of the other. However, Narcissa and her hunches had often proven to be correct, even if the consequences were...unfavorable. For now, he would play along, see where this would lead. At worst, the two boys would devolve into their usual bickering and may sequester themselves from one another. That, the more he thought about it, may be more of the best outcome. At least for his sanity. And his personal belongings.

"As long as it isn't some snobbish, self-righteous Gryffindor. Gods, they can be so self-centered, ignoring everyone else around them an-

"Please, continue Draco, what else do you think about my House"

The air in the drawing room went still, as the voice of an unannounced Harry came from the door, his hands clenched tightly into a fist. Neither occupant had heard him open the door, though it was pretty clear he had been there long enough to at least hear the start of Draco's tirade about Gryffindor's.

"P-Potter? Potter is staying in your house" it was less of a question and more of a statement, as Draco stared at one of the primary focuses for much of his adolescent life. Some many questions blossomed in his mind. So many things he could say. Something he had been dying for, a chance, an opportunity to speak with Harry beyond the walls of Hogwarts, beyond the place where their rivalry was expected.

Even though he couldn't see it, his Mother was smiling faintly, looking over her son, easily able to read the various thoughts and emotions that were flying across his face. A quick glance at Snape and, to her utter lack of shock, the man wasn't picking up on any of the obvious clues. For a spy, he was rather bad at reading things that were so simple. Then again, this was also the man who never noticed his love being returned by Lily till much later in life.

"Yes, Draco. Mister Potter is staying here for the Summer. Under the order of the Headmaster no less. Apparently, he feels that, after his rather disastrous shenanigans at the end of Fifth Year, he needs a...closer eye on him. To make sure no one else suffers for his...carelessness" Snape responded coolly, slipping into his more "Dungeon Bat' persona. It was so much easier to do that, than try to explain the truth behind Potter's stay. That, and he had a feeling that the young man didn't want Draco knowing too much about his real reason for staying. Snape took a glance at Potter, expecting to see some form of gratitude for his discretion. Instead, the young Lion was glaring daggers at the Potions Master, his eyes looking cloudy, as if he was fighting back a well of emotions.

"Harry, please, come here dear, so I can check on you" Narcissa quickly interjected, not waiting for the young man to move before she got up from her chair and went over to him "I need to give you another once over, see how you are coming along. Are you taking those potions I gave you" she questioned quickly, before standing between him and Snape, waving her wand about his body, as information began to appear on a scroll that materialized from the air.

"It seems you arm is healed up rather well. It will still be a bit stiff, but that will go away in time. Same with your ribs as well" she began to mutter, just loud enough for Harry to hear. Maybe Snape if he bothered to pay attention. "You still needed to bump up how you are eating. Those potions are meant to be supplements, not replacements" she continued to fuss over Harry, who had gone from looking rather angry, to embarrassed, his face flushed as Narcissa continued to talk about his overall health. It was nice, he rationalized, to have someone looking after him just out of compassion, and not out of obligation like Madame Pomfrey. If it wasn't for her job, he was pretty sure that the Medi-Witch wouldn't have given him or his injuries a second glance. Mrs. Malfoy, however, she was different. Felt different, as if she cared more about him, and less about doing this as a job.

While Narcissa was going over Harry, and trying her best to get the young Wizard to understand the importance of eating well, Snape and Draco were pulled into their own conversation, one prompted by a still shocked Draco.

"Wh-why is he here? This...this isn't some plan to sell him out to You-Know-Who, is it" questioned Draco, that last part filled with a bit of malice, though Snape didn't know if it was aimed at him, or at Voldemort.

"Of course not, the Headmaster wants Potter kept out of trouble. Keeping him with the Weasley clan would have been the utter opposite. That, and no one else is currently able to house Potter, hence why I have had to open my doors to him"

"If it is to keep him out of trouble, then why is Mother treating him like a patient. Something happened to him, over the summer, didn't it? With his relatives, the Muggles"

There was a beat of silence between the two, as Snape tried to find a way to twist this away from the truth. However, if there was one thing he knew about his GodSon, it was how perceptive he could be about things. Though he was curious as to how Draco even knew about Potter's living situation, or even the fact that he was staying with his Muggle relatives.

"Potter's friends aren't the best at discretion" Draco spoke, answering the unspoken question, "I overheard them in the library once, talking about how his Aunt and Uncle aren't the best Muggles. I'm guessing that they kicked him out and HeadMaster made you watch him"

"Well, if that is what you see, then that is all you will know" Snape responded, glad that Draco wasn't too perceptive. He didn't want the young man to know of the level of abuse Potter faced. Best to just let him think Potter was kicked out, and nothing more. "Regardless, I want you to be civil with Potter. At least while under this roof. I do not fancy having an already overly emotional Lion in my home getting into fights with an equally overly emotional Snake"

"I am not overly emotional" retorted an affronted Draco, his insulted tone of voice only proving his GodFathers point. With a huff and arms crossed, Draco cast a glance over at Potter.

There was something almost indescribably serene about looking at him. This was probably the closest he had been to Potter in sometime. At least not when words of hate and malice were being spread. He looked too skinny, looking so much smaller and frail for his age. Draco often wondered how he was able to stay on a broom without being swept away. Probably that stubborn will of his. Regardless, his stature and size did little to detract Draco. So many thoughts ran in his head, all of them centered around the Lion in the room. Perhaps, if Fate was such a thing, this was it's way of giving him a second chance. HAdn't he been pinning for such a thing since the end of Fifth Year? He wouldn't screw it up, he would put his best foot forward and show Harry that he had changed, was capable of being more than just a Snake.

"You can't stare me out of existence Malfoy, so stop trying" were the words that brought Draco back to reality, and to the awkward realization he had been staring headlong at Harry the entire time. With a blush, he quickly turned away, kicking himself for acting so much like a love struck First Year.

"You would do well to remember our conversation Potter" warned Snape, who paid little heed to his GodSons reaction towards Harry. While Snape was certain Potter needed very little reminding of their bargain, he knew just how quick the young man's temper could be. All it took was the warning and a gaze from Snape to get Harry to bite his tongue.

"I'm sure the boys will be fine Severus, besides, you and I still have things to discuss, and I'm sure you'd rather not spend all your time keeping them out of trouble" Narcissa led on, after giving Harry a clean bill of health. Clean enough to leave the Drawing Room so both she and Severus could chat. His actual health was still rather dismal. She was surprised that he was even standing considering his lack of nutrition, and his still healing body.

"Indeed. Draco, seeing as I have much better things to do than give Potter a tour of Prince Manor, please do so. Recall that you are both guest in this house, and will treat it with the same respect you treat me" Snape made sure to look both young man in the eye, settling on Harry for a bit longer "And that goes double for you Mister Potter, or our agreement will be null and void"

Waving them off, paying little mind to what was more than likely a foul swear under the breath of Potter, Snape turned his attention to Narcissa, who waited till the door shut behind the boys and the privacy spells flared to life.

"You really are pants at this Gaurdian deal Sev" she spat, casting would could only be described as a withering gaze towards her friend

"It has only been a few days Narcissa, you can't expect me to master this in such a short time. Not only that, but beyond keeping track of his basic needs, Potter will be fine"

"And there goes all that progress, lost to your own insecurities"

"What does that mea-"

"You know damn well what I mean" hissed Narcissa, cutting of the Potions Master without missing a step "The boy hasn't eaten a proper meal in ages, I am pretty sure any good will he may have had towards you is faltering, and are you bribing him to behave around Draco" came the rapid fire questions from a seemingly irked Narcissa.

"I took your advice and used something the boy would love to know to get him to behave, and I shouldn't have to manage something as basic as the boys eating habits. He is Fifteen afterall"

"You bloody idiot, considering what Harry has been through, do you really think taking care of himself is at the top of his list. Not only that, I said talk him about stuff he liked to get him to open up to you, not to manipulate him for your own use. He probably gets enough of that from the HeadMaster"

"I was not going to just sit around and wait for Harry to instigate a brawl with Draco over something foolish in this house" Snape spoke with a restrained tone, that it was clear the Malfoy Matron's words had slipped under his skin "If using Lily to get her son to behave is what it takes, then that is what I shall do. I may have resolved to be nicer towards the boy, but that does not mean I will let him run amuck"

Narcissa scoffed, before turning her gaze towards the floo, looking at the swirling ashes kicked up from the open flume,

"He needs something more than just you being nicer, and when are you going to realize that what he needs is only something you can provide"

"Whatever you are implying, I am sure Potter will be fine without it. Now, putting this behind us, to what do I owe this visit, as I am sure you didn't come here to just berate me over my treatment of Potter"

"No, I didn't, though I wish I didn't have to. No, I came over here because Lucius has just given me some rather interesting news. Tell me, have you heard from Voldemort"

Severus stiffened, waiting for the telltale burn of the Dark Mark, spelled to flare to life with a searing pain whenever his name was spoken without the Dark Lords express permission. Instead of the searing pain, however, Snape felt...nothing. Well, that wasn't the correct thing to say, he did feel something. Something he hadn't felt in sometime, a sense of ease.

"I guess Lucius wasn't joking when he said that the Mark had lost its magic"

"Explain" spoke Severus, looking at the mark on his arm, masking his emotions as best as he could. There was no telling what this really was. It could be a ruse on the part of the Dark Lord, a test to see just who was his most faithful.

"I know what you are thinking, but I highly doubt that Voldemort considers my dear husband among his inner circle. There would be no way he'd still be standing if Voldemort knew he called him by his...real name"

A blank look crossed Severus face, who flicked out his wand towards a blank spot in the wall. The wood panels slid aside, revealing the hovering silver disc that was his Pensive. Directing the disc between the two of them, Snape gestured towards Narcissa, prompting her to pull out her own wand and focus on her conversation with her husband before they left. Soon, the silvery wisp that was the memory slowly began to emerge from her temple, before it was cast into the shimmering liquid of the Pensive. Without a moment's hesitation, Severus plunged his head into the memory.

* * *

The click of the door seemed to echo in the house, as Draco and Harry were both shut off from whatever conversation that was about to take place. While Draco was used to such actions, and had learn not to over think them, years of having his own fate handled for him had often made Harry wary when adults talked behind closed doors. Even moreso considering that Snape was the one behind the door.

For a moment, Harry mused trying to find a way to eavesdrop on the conversation, wishing he still had a few of those enchanted extendable ears from Fred and George. Thinking on that, it dawned on harry that he was still missing his stuff. Used to living his summers magic-less it really hadn't occurred to him that he needed to get his trunk and wand from Grimmauld Place. Though, the thought of walking down those halls with no Sirius in sight made the notion a bit sour.

"Staring at the door isn't going to make hearing what they are saying any easier. Sev's wards privacy wards are iron tight" came the voice of Draco, bringing Harry's mind off of Sirius for the moment.

"Listen, Malfoy, I know you don't fancy being anywhere around me, and neither do I. So How about I go my way, you go yours and we just tell them that we behaved like the would want us to" Harry snapped back, feeling his ire towards Draco rising. At least he thought it was ire, as he turned to face Draco in full. He had felt the slight anger and irritation towards Draco building since Snape informed him that he was to be civil with the Ferret, and now, it seemed to be slowly diminishing. Instead it was replaced by that same feeling from before, a slight fluttering in his chest, his breathing feeling a bit labored. Draco hadn't cursed him, as the raven haired wizard hadn't seen a wand. In fact, nothing about Draco's posture seemed threatening. It seemed more tense, to be sure, almost bordering on nervous, but nothing that spoke to him wanting to attack. Harry knew what Draco looked like when he was about to attack, or go for his wand, here he just looked...well almost normal. Normal enough for Harry to actually take a longer look at his long time foil. Had his hair always been so smooth and well-managed? What about his body, had it always looked so slender and powerful? More importantly, since when did Harry start questioning just what Draco looked like?

"As much as I would love to do that" Draco spoke once more, and like before, his voice easily able to bring Harry from the confusing train of thought running in his head "I am not one to spend time alone in Prince Manor. It can be rather lonely"

"Oh, so you just want to bring me along as a punching bag for when you get bored of staring at the walls" retorted Harry, though the comment felt far more light than was intended, which earned an uncharacteristic chuckle from Draco.

"No, I don't think Severus would enjoy me beating on you, even if you are among his least favorite Lions. Actually, it is because I wanted to talk to you. Something we have never really done"

"Well, you are a spiteful, Muggle born hating, Pure Blood git; who, I may add, seems to have a thing for hating me. So I fail to see how us not talking is an issue"

Draco had to bite his lip, trying his best to simmer down the bevy of insults he could lob at Harry. Mentally he reminded himself that everything Harry did say was true. While he didn't outright buy into blood superiority, and his jealousy of Harry's friends had led to some verbal discourse between them, Harry was correct. In the years of knowing each other, he had done little to endear himself to the Savior of the Wizarding World. Well, if he was going to try and do so now, it would be best to swallow his pride, and work beyond those comments

"Look" Draco picked up, shifting his stance to appear a bit more commanding and direct, one of the few useful things he picked up from his father "You are right, I have done nothing but be an outright arse to you for four-"

"Five years" Harry cut in, earning him a dark glare from the Slytherin that made Harry clam up, though a smirk still curled about his lips

"Five years, and I have done nothing to improve the situation. Granted, you haven't either, but seeing as you are a stubborn and head strong Gryffindor, it is on actually do something about it"

"What are you getting at Malfoy" spoke a wary Harry. He kept his eyes centered on Draco, still reading his body for any tell-tale signs of this being a trick, though he would be lying if the Slytherins words didn't catch his interest

"What I am getting at is that….well...I want to apologise. And, hopefully attempt to start off on the right toe, as the Muggles say"

For a moment, both Draco and Harry just stared at one another, both trying to read the other. Then, after a few more moments of silence, a snicker broke out from between the lips of Harry, one that soon tumbled into a full blown laugh. It was enough to not only break the silence between them, but also quickly darken Draco's mood.

"I guess that is what I get, for trying to actually extended my arm outwards in a show of pe-"

"No. No, it isn't that" Harry managed to get out, his face slowly going back to his natural complexion after turning red from laughter "It is what you said"

"How is that supposed to be any better" spoke a fuming Draco, still trying to find out what was so funny, if Harry wasn't laughing at his honest attempt at an apology

"Right foot. Not right leg" Harry managed to correct Draco, having regained his own composure, though the action did leave his glasses askew

"What does a leg have to do with anything"

"The Muggle saying. It is "start off on the right foot" not leg. I just pictured you trying to figure out why anyone would want to start off on their right toe is all"

"If you are implying that I took such a simple Muggle idiom seriously, then you are sorely mistaken Potter" Draco spoke quickly, though his slight blush told otherwise. He had heard it spoken once, when he overheard one of the Muggle Borns in the library use it. It confused him, yes, but he at least understood the context it was used in.

"Regardless, seeing as you are not taking my offer seriously, maybe I will take your advice and go my sep- what are you doing"

Malfoy had posed the question as he looked at Harry, rather Harry's outstretched hand. In the moment, he felt his mind go back to his First Year, when he had offered his own hand to Harry and was coldly shot down.

"It is called a handshake, you must know about that. You offered one to me five years ago"

"Yeah, and you rejected me and what I had to offer that night"

"I-I know. I didn't give you a chance then, but, if you are willing to apologise and try to start again, so am I. And, I think it is fitting that I offer my handshake to you, though I understand if you don't want to take it"

Draco looked at that hand. A hand he thought about shaking before he arrived at Hogwarts. One he wanted to shake at first year. A hand that managed to snatch a snitch right in front of him. A hand that had casted some spectacular spells. A hand that often shook with worry, or fear. Or vibrated with determination and rage. Here it was, that hand, reaching out to him. After all this time. Reaching out, Draco clasped his hand tightly into Harry's, with it came a rush of what could only be described as sparks. The young man felt the hair along his neck stand on end, as a shiver ran across his spine. The very touch of Harry's skin on his felt electrifying, an addicting sensation he didn't want to end. Glancing up at Harry's face, the young man was heavily blushing, his eyes wide, as if trying to find someway to describe what just happened. Just as Draco was about to say something, Harry sntached his hand away, stuffing it into his pocket.

"Yeah, uhm, I guess consider this the start to trying again" Harry stated rather quickly, before looking anywhere else other than Draco, suddenly finding the rafters very interesting.

"Indeed, as such, let me give you a proper tour of the House of Prince, as I doubt Sev has ever bothered to give you one"

"Considering our history, why should that be a shocker" Harry muttered, before he found himself being pulled along by a suddenly enthusiastic Draco, whose hand was warmly wrapped around his arm. The same hand that had delivered that warm, blissful sensation just a few moments ago. Even now, his hand still radiated with it, leaving Harry to question if Draco had just poisoned him, or was there something else going on with his body?


End file.
